A Tricky Gray Area - Part Two
by Madeline77
Summary: This is part two of my three-part Arrested Development fanfiction about Michael and Lindsay's relationship. Part two covers 1987-2003, including their marriages to Tracey and Tobias.
1. Chapter 1

_August, 1987_

Lindsay stepped out of the bathroom into the dark hallway in her pink bathrobe, her hair wet from the shower. As she was walking to her room she heard the phone ring downstairs and froze.

"Hello?" she heard her mother say. "Michael, I'm glad you called. I need you to settle a dispute between me and Buster. He wants to go to a PG-13-rated movie but I don't think he's ready."

Lindsay's heart started beating quickly. She'd been waiting by the phone all day for Michael to call, ever since he'd left that morning. He'd left an hour earlier than he said he would, so that by the time she woke up he was already out the door and all she'd had time to say to him was a quick goodbye in front of the rest of the family. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

"I know he's fourteen!" her mother was saying into the phone. "But he's such an impressionable little boy, and the things they put in movies these days."

"Can I talk to him?" Lindsay asked.

"I'm in the middle of something," she said. " _Dirty Dancing_. I mean, the title alone! What? I should've known you'd take his side. Just like your father, couldn't care less what Buster watches."

"Please," Lindsay said desperately. Lucille sighed exasperatedly.

"Fine," she said. "Your sister wants to talk to you."

She handed the phone to Lindsay.

"Hi," Lindsay said into the receiver, her heart pounding.

"Hi," she heard Michael say. He sounded nervous.

"How are you?" she asked, watching her mother pour herself a glass of wine.

"Uh, good. How are you?"

"Good," she said, though that was far from the truth. "Have you moved in yet?"

"Yeah, I just finished unpacking."

"What's your dorm like?" she asked as Lucille left the kitchen. Lindsay took the phone out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, stretching the cord as far as it would go.

"Good," he said.

"Good." She closed the door as much as she could while still leaving a crack for the cord. "Okay, we need to talk about last night," she said, lowering her voice.

There was a silence.

"I don't think there's much to talk about," he said. "Obviously it was…a mistake and…and we shouldn't let anything like that happen again."

Lindsay swallowed. She'd expected something like this but it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"It wasn't a mistake for me," she said, her voice wavering. "I've had feelings for you for a long time, and I know you feel the same way—"

"Lindsay—"

"It's not actually that bad when you think about it," she said quickly. "It's not like it would hurt anyone, no one would even know."

"Lindsay, please—"

"It's just, I love you, and—and I know you're not sure about this, but we're so good for each other. I think we belong together."

"Wha—we don't belong together, we're siblings!"

"It doesn't matter—"

"Yes, it does! Ugh, look, I can't talk about this here, I'm outside at a payphone, someone might hear."

"Please, just think about it, it's not actually that bad."

"Not that bad? Lindsay, just—it's not an option, okay? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to change my mind, so please—" He broke off. "I'm sorry, I really can't talk about this right now. Sorry."

"Michael, wait—" she said, but then she heard the phone click and knew that he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_September, 1987_

Lindsay walked across the school parking lot, squinting in the bright sunlight. She got into her car and took her lunch out of her backpack and ate.

She hadn't spoken to Michael in a month. After that phone call the night he left she'd been too hurt to call him again, and she'd been relieved when he didn't call her either. But after a few days of that she'd started to feel annoyed. He'd promised to call her every day. She kept waiting for him to call her, wanting to make him be the first and thinking he would have to eventually, but now a month had gone by and he still hadn't. She'd heard her parents talking to him a few times, but apparently he never asked to talk to her.

It was so unfair, she'd only done it because she was drunk, didn't he realize that? And he'd kissed her back, he'd almost had sex with her, and now he was acting like she was the crazy one. How could he do this to her, just abandon her like this after everything that had happened in the last year? She thought about that night again. It had been replaying over and over in her mind for the last month, the thrill of him kissing her back, her initial fear and uncertainty and the moment it all melted away, and the flash of panic she'd felt when he'd pulled away from her. How she'd told him she loved him and all he'd said was that it was wrong.

The worst part was that as angry as she was, she still missed him like crazy. She felt so lonely. She wasn't very close to anyone else in her family and her social life was still in disrepair, especially since most of her friends had graduated now. She was slowly rebuilding her friendships with the ones that hadn't, but the shallow and competitive relationships she had with them did nothing to fill the hole left by Michael's absence. And as the weeks went by she felt less and less like socializing and had taken to eating lunch by herself in the car again.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she wished she hadn't stopped going to therapy, just so she would have someone to talk to. She'd convinced her father to stop making her go, telling him she didn't need it anymore and that it was interfering with school. But if she went back now everyone would think she was relapsing. It was hard, though. She'd always gone to Michael with her problems, but now she had no one.


	3. Chapter 3

_September, 1987_

Michael sat at his desk, looking blankly at his economics textbook in the lamplight and struggling to keep his eyes open. It was looking like he was going to be up late again tonight. He'd been a little too eager when signing up for classes and was beginning to worry he'd taken on too much.

The phone on his desk rang, startling him awake. He picked it up.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey, it's me."

He jumped when he recognized Lindsay's voice. "Oh, hi," he said, glancing nervously at his roommate, who was sitting on his bed doing homework.

"How are you?" she asked, a little shakily.

"Good," he said uncomfortably. "How are you?"

"Good. I've missed you," she said, the emotion plain in her voice.

"I've missed you, too," Michael said, his heart beating faster.

"You haven't called me once," she said. She did a little half-laugh as she said it but there was no mistaking the accusatory note in her voice.

"Oh yeah," he said guiltily. "Sorry, I've been really busy." She didn't say anything. "I'm sorry, I'll try to call you more," he added.

"Okay," she said quietly.

Michael cursed silently, feeling extremely guilty about how hurt she sounded. He'd spent the last month telling himself he should call her, but he'd been too afraid she would try to convince him to be in some kind of relationship with her again and he'd convinced himself that her silence meant she didn't want to talk to him either.

"So how are things at home?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Uh, okay, I guess. Well, you know. I guess it's just the same as it's always been."

"Everything's okay?" he asked, her answer bringing back his fears of her relapsing while he was away.

"I haven't relapsed if that's what you're asking," she snapped.

"Oh—that's not what I meant," he said, caught off guard. "Well, that's good. Yeah, that's good."

"Yeah," she said stiffly. "Listen, I have to go. I just wanted to check in really quick."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry I haven't called you."

"Yeah, okay. Bye," she said, hanging up before he could respond.


	4. Chapter 4

_November, 1987_

Michael pulled into the driveway of his family's house and got out of the car. It was Thanksgiving and he was going to be home for the next four days. He went around to the trunk and took out his suitcase, then pulled it up to the front door.

He wasn't particularly happy to be home. He'd been enjoying college and the only person he'd really missed was Lindsay, but the idea of seeing her again only filled him with dread. He'd called her three times since she'd called him, trying to make up for before, but every time she just seemed annoyed and quickly made an excuse to get off the phone, and eventually he'd given up. She hadn't called him either, and it had been almost two months since they'd spoken. If her recent behavior was any indication, this was going to be an extremely awkward visit.

As he opened the door he heard his mother screeching, "Rosa, how many times do I have to tell you, if you get water on the counter you have to clean it up?!"

Michael grimaced. "Hi, Mom," he called. Lucille came into the hallway.

"Michael," she said warmly and hugged him. He kissed her cheek. "How was the drive here?"

"Good," he said. "The turkey smells good."

"Let's hope so," she said darkly, apparently having not forgotten how Rosa had overcooked the turkey the year before. "Your father will be home in an hour."

"Hey, brother!"

Michael looked up and saw his younger brother walking down the stairs.

"Buster!" Michael said, going over to him and hugging him, too. He heard someone else coming down the stairs and looked up and saw Lindsay. His mouth went dry when he saw her. She was looking especially pretty in a very short, tight-fitting dress that was too fancy for just sitting around the house. He realized uneasily that she'd probably put in extra effort to look good for his arrival.

"Hi, Lindsay," he said nervously.

"Hi," she said, giving him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Michael hesitated, then gave her a quick hug, very conscious of their mother watching them. He didn't dare kiss her on the cheek like he usually did. When he pulled away the stony expression on her face told him she'd noticed.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Great," she said. He thought he heard a note of sarcasm in her voice, but he couldn't be sure. He noticed that she was wearing the necklace he'd given her for their last birthday. Why was she still wearing that? Of course, she'd worn it every day before he left, but after everything that had happened it seemed like she was trying to send some kind of message. He felt extremely embarrassed about giving it to her. In hindsight it had probably been a manifestation of his unconscious attraction to her. He hoped no one else knew where she'd gotten it.

He looked up and saw Gob coming down the stairs. "Hey, Gob," he said, grateful for the distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lindsay quietly slip out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

_December, 1987_

The Bluth family sat around the living room on Christmas Eve watching Gob perform his Christmas-themed magic show, which was really just his normal magic show with a Santa hat and 'Carol of the Bells' replacing 'The Final Countdown' as the accompanying music. He'd seemed to care so much about it that they'd all reluctantly agreed to watch it, but Buster was the only one who seemed to be enjoying it. Gob had made so many mistakes that Lindsay was starting to feel bad for him, though she was having trouble paying much attention with Michael sitting next to her on the couch, conspicuously leaning away from her.

Gob concluded the show by making a dove appear in a puff of smoke. They applauded, mildly impressed.

"Wow, that was some trick," Michael said.

"Illusion, Michael," Lindsay said under her breath. He laughed. Lindsay's heart skipped a beat.

Things hadn't changed much since he'd come home for winter break two weeks earlier. The majority of it had passed much like Thanksgiving break, with both of them avoiding each other as much as possible. She'd been so angry that he'd made her be the one to call him first, frozen her out for so long that she couldn't take it anymore, and his pathetic explanation that it was just because he was busy hadn't helped. But her anger was starting to fade, or at least be overshadowed by her overwhelming desire to have him back in her life. She was just so lonely. She was willing to look past how he'd treated her over the last few months if it meant they could be friends again. She'd been trying to be friendlier to him over the last few days to show him this. It hadn't done much good, but he did seem to be a little more comfortable around her now that they'd been in the same house again for two weeks.

The family got up and filtered out of the living room.

"Here, I'll help with that," Lindsay heard Michael say as she started up the stairs. She looked back and saw him helping Rosa pick up the various props Gob had left scattered on the floor. "You shouldn't have to work on Christmas Eve, you should go home," he said.

"It's okay, I'm almost done," she said. "I just need to do the dishes."

"I'll do those."

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem. Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, Michael," she said, smiling warmly at him. Lindsay smirked. She knew how much Michael loved playing the hero. But it gave her an excellent opportunity to get closer to him. She went back into the living room.

"I'll help, too," she said.

"Oh. Thank you," Rosa said, surprised.

"You're welcome," she said. Michael looked equally surprised, as well as a little apprehensive, but then he smiled at her. Lindsay smiled back and walked to the kitchen. Michael followed her. She opened the dishwasher and began unloading the dishes.

"Thanks for helping," Michael said, joining her.

"No problem," she said. They unloaded the dishes together in silence for a long time as she waited for him to say something.

"So you're working on college applications now, right?" he finally said, a little forcedly.

"Yep."

"How are those going?"

"Uh, okay. I haven't really done as much as I should have, to tell you the truth." She saw a look of disapproval flash across his face. "I mean, I've done some stuff, and I've got all my recommendations, I just need to the do the essays," she said quickly, annoyed. "I've still got a week left, so I'll be fine."

"Okay," he said, though he didn't seem entirely convinced. "If you want, I could help you with them."

"Oh," she said, her annoyance quickly overshadowed by her excitement at the prospect of spending some time alone with him. "Uh, yeah, that would be great."

"Where are you applying?"

"Dominican, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember," he said quickly.

"And some other places, too, of course," she said, hurt.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, it would be nice to see you more," he said, though she could tell he was nervous about the possibility.

"Yep," she said, a little harshly. It had been his idea after all. She didn't even want to go there that much, she was only hoping that living a little closer to him would help repair their relationship. They continued to unload the dishes, an uncomfortable silence now hanging between them.


	6. Chapter 6

_December, 1987_

"Okay, here are the prompts for Dominican," Lindsay said, walking over to the bed where Michael was sitting and handing him the packet. It was late and it was pouring rain outside the window of her bedroom. She sat down cross-legged next to him. "We're supposed to choose one of them, and it has to be less than a page."

"Describe a problem you've solved or would like to solve," Michael read aloud. "It can be an intellectual challenge, a research query, an ethical dilemma, anything that is of importance, no matter the scale. Explain its significance to you and what steps you took or could be taken to identify a solution."

He paused, trying to think of something she could write. Lindsay didn't do much other than socializing and shopping. If he was being honest with himself he didn't think any college would want her if they actually knew her, but he was trying to make them think that they did.

"Okay," he said, moving on to the next question. "If you could spend a day with anyone, living, deceased, or imaginary, who would it be and why?" He looked up at her. "Any ideas?"

"Not really," she said.

"Okay, we'll try the next one," he said, hoping she wasn't expecting him to write the whole thing for her. "Describe a family, cultural, or personal tradition that is meaningful to you. Explain why."

"Mother's Day Eve," she joked.

Michael laughed. "That sounds more like Buster than you."

She laughed, too. "Yeah, I think the more we can leave our family out of it the better."

"Good thinking. Okay, last one. Describe a challenge you have faced and overcome. How did you overcome it and what did you learn from the experience?" He paused, thinking about her battle with anorexia a year ago. That could actually make a good essay, but he felt uncomfortable bringing it up. "Do you have any ideas for that one?" he asked.

"None," she groaned. "That was the last one?"

"Yeah."

"Ugh, what are we going to do?"

He hesitated. "Well, you do have a good story for that last one, with your eating disorder last year." She looked up at him in surprise. "It's just an idea, it's fine if you don't want to," he said quickly, embarrassed.

She hesitated. "Uh, yeah, okay."

"Only if you're comfortable with it."

"Yeah, it's fine. I don't have any other ideas."

"Okay, great," he said, still a little embarrassed. "So the question asks how you overcame it, so we should keep the focus on that. You can start by describing what happened, then say how you overcame it, and talk about what you learned from the experience in the conclusion."

She smirked. "That my mom's a bitch."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Uh, let's try to top that," he said, laughing weakly.

She laughed. "I don't think I 'learned anything from the experience,' the whole thing was just… I don't know, I didn't learn any meaningful lessons or anything."

"That's okay, we can work on that part later," he said. "Let's focus on the middle first, how you overcame it."

"Umm…" she said, looking down and drumming her fingers on the bed. "I don't know, I guess I just wanted everyone to stop worrying about me." She laughed. "Well, I wanted you to stop worrying about me, no one else cared."

"They did, once they realized how serious it was," he said, feeling a rush of pity for her.

"Took them long enough," she said, laughing humorlessly. "Um, yeah, so… So I didn't want you to worry about me, and I was worried they'd put me in partial hospitalization if I didn't get better. That's not great for an essay, though. Uh… I also realized it was making me feel worse, I guess. I mean, I thought it was helping me, you know, making me feel better, but then I realized I felt worse than before. Is that okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, suddenly remembering they were working on an essay. "Yeah, that's good."

She gave him a small smile. He smiled back, guiltily thinking about how he'd been shutting her out over the last few months. But she was better now, that was a long time ago.

"I mean, the main reason I did it was so Mom would stop criticizing me all the time," she said, picking up steam. She seemed to be somewhat enjoying herself now. "I thought if she could see how…how it was affecting me, that she'd feel guilty and stop. I know, it's kind of ridiculous."

"No," Michael said quickly. "It's completely understandable, she was horrible to you."

"Thanks," she said, with the same small smile. "So I was trying to get her to stop. And I also just wanted to be thinner. I mean, I know I wasn't overweight, but…yeah, I don't know. But then no one even noticed. Even when you told them they didn't believe you. So I just kept going, and then it got to this point where I couldn't stop. I don't know, I guess it just felt nice to feel like…like I was doing something, I guess, I didn't know what to do with myself when I stopped. I really did try at first. I don't know if you believed me."

"I believed you," he said, remembering her tearfully telling him that in the basement a year ago. She smiled.

"So, how I got out of it… Yeah, I realized it was making me feel worse, so I wanted to stop. I was also just trying to get out of therapy. And…well, we got closer, and that kind of helped."

Michael's heart skipped a beat. He thought about spending the night with her on Thanksgiving and everything that had followed that. She wasn't going to bring that up, was she? She looked up at him. He quickly tried to hide his nervousness, but the hurt in her face told him she'd seen it.

"Well, you know, when I was having obsessive thoughts about my weight, talking to you would help distract me," she said hastily. "And therapy, that helped, too. So yeah, let's start writing."

"Oh, okay," Michael said, surprised by the abrupt change. He glanced over at her. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

"So for the introduction describe what happened?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, so we should try to come up with a good hook that kind of grabs your attention," he said guiltily, still wrestling with the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

"Like what?"

"Uh, I don't know, let me think," he said, laughing uncomfortably. He tried to think of something, but he couldn't focus, all he could think about was how terrified he'd been last year seeing her get thinner and thinner and having no idea how to help her. He looked discreetly over at her, trying to tell if she'd lost any weight since he'd left in August. He didn't think she had, but he couldn't be sure. "You're—you're doing okay now, right?" he asked tentatively.

She laughed. "Yeah."

"You're still going to therapy?"

"Oh, no, I don't need it anymore.

"Oh," Michael said, feeling increasingly concerned. "Carolyn said that?"

"Uh, yeah," she said unconvincingly. "Well, you know, it was interfering with school. I'm fine now, really."

"Okay," Michael said uneasily. He hesitated. "You know, you can always call me if…if you need anything." The look of disbelief she gave him filled with him shame. "I'm sorry I haven't been calling you much," he said earnestly. "I've missed you."

He saw her face fill with emotion. She turned away. "I've missed you, too," she said quietly.

"I just thought you didn't want to talk to me, so I stopped calling, but…I don't know, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said. "Just stop acting so nervous around me, okay?"

"I—I haven't—" he stammered. She raised her eyebrows. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Sorry."

She smiled. "It's okay."


	7. Chapter 7

_January, 1988_

"God, it's so cold," Lindsay said as she and Michael walked down the boardwalk, hunching her shoulders against the wind coming in off the water. "Frozen bananas may not have been the best choice."

"Yeah, maybe not," Michael laughed.

They'd just mailed in Lindsay's college applications and gotten frozen bananas to celebrate. The banana stand was closed for the night, but Michael still had the key from when he'd worked there and they'd gotten in and made some for themselves. When Lindsay had said she hadn't done as much as she should have on her college applications she'd meant that she hadn't started, and the two of them had stayed up well past midnight on New Year's Eve to make sure they mailed them by January 1st, the deadline for most of her applications.

"Whoo! We made it!" Lindsay said, looking up at the night sky and spinning around.

"Thank god," Michael laughed. "Maybe don't leave the rest until six days before the deadline?"

"I know, I know," she sighed. Michael had done a good deal of complaining about staying up all night writing her essays, but she could tell he'd had as much fun as she had. She didn't even care about the work, she was just so happy to be spending time with him again. "But I'm through the worst of it, only two left!"

"Yeah, definitely cause for celebration. I think they turned out pretty well."

"Me, too! Thanks for helping."

"No problem," he said, smiling. She smiled back and sat down on a bench. He sat with her. She glanced over at him, thinking about how good it felt for things to be almost back to normal between them after these last few months.

"It's nice having you here," she said tentatively.

He smiled. "It's nice being here."

"When are you going back?"

"Sunday."

"Sunday?" she repeated, horrified.

"Yeah, I thought you knew that."

"No, I didn't," she said, not even bothering to hide her emotions. "That's in two days!"

"Yeah," he said, looking guilty. "Sorry, I thought you knew."

"Damn it," she said quietly. "When are you coming home again?"

"Summer."

"You're not coming home for spring break?"

"No," he said, looking even guiltier. "Sorry, it's just such a long drive. And the more time I can spend away from Mom and Dad the better." He forced a laugh. She didn't even smile. The same hurt and anger she'd been feeling for the last few months was suddenly returning. "Maybe I can come home for spring break, too," he said. "It's been nice spending time with you again."

Her anger evaporated. "It's been nice spending time with you, too," she said.

She looked at the reflection of the pale white streetlights in the dark water below, trying to repress her disappointment that he was leaving so soon. They'd wasted most of the break barely speaking to each other, but over the last few days things had become almost like they used to be, and for the first time in months she didn't feel like she was drowning. She couldn't go back to that. But it would be different now, he would call her more, and maybe visit for spring break. And he would definitely be home for the summer, and if she got accepted into Dominican she'd go back with him in the fall and they'd visit each other every weekend like they'd planned. Maybe there was even still hope that he would change his mind. She still thought that if she had enough time she could convince him.

She looked over at him. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that he was looking at her, too. He quickly looked away, embarrassed. She hesitated, her heart beating quickly, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

He jumped back. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I just—"

"You just what?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" she said, her face turning pink.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry."

"Jesus Christ, what is your problem?" she muttered angrily, looking down at her lap.

"Okay, sorry!" he said, sounding extremely embarrassed. She kept staring at her lap, blinking away tears of embarrassment and anger.

"Let's go home," she said harshly.

"Oh. Okay," he said guiltily.

She got up and started walking quickly down the boardwalk. She didn't look back to see if he was following her, she just wanted to make sure he didn't see her crying.


	8. Chapter 8

_March, 1988_

Lindsay groaned as the phone on her nightstand rang, waking her up. She opened her eyes and immediately closed them again, her eyes stinging from the bright sunlight coming in through the window. She'd had way too much to drink the night before and now her head was aching. She'd had a lot of nights like that recently, having finally rebuilt her social life and found that getting blackout drunk at parties helped her a little with her loneliness. She rolled over and let the phone ring, intending to go back to sleep. Had her phone always been that loud? Who was calling at this time anyway?

She opened her eyes when she remembered it was Saturday. Michael always called her on Saturdays now. She hated that, that he had a designated day of the week when he had to call her so her feelings wouldn't be hurt. Couldn't he at least change the day every now and then so it wasn't so obvious? But at least he was trying, and she couldn't help it, she still liked talking to him.

She sat up and swayed a little, feeling nauseous. She looked at her alarm clock and saw that it was almost one o' clock. She picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said, trying to keep the grogginess out of her voice.

"Hey, Linds, it's Michael."

"Hi," she said, sincerely regretting drinking so much as another wave of nausea hit her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I just woke up."

"Just now?"

"Yeah, I was out late last night. Party."

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to call back later?"

"No, it's fine. I should be getting up anyway."

"Okay," he laughed. "How was the party?"

"Uh…to be honest I barely remember it. I don't even remember coming home, but I guess I'm here, so…"

"Wow. That sounds kind of dangerous."

She laughed. "Relax, I'm fine. Just really, really hungover."

"Okay. Just be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry."

"Okay. How are things at home?"

"Uh…same as usual, I guess. Mom got her license suspended again so Gob and I have to take turns driving her everywhere, which is even more of a nightmare than you'd think. God, I miss you."

He laughed nervously but didn't say anything. She felt a flash of anger. He couldn't even tell her he missed her anymore? She wished she hadn't said that. It was true, she still missed him like crazy, but she didn't want him to know that.

"So I've been seeing someone," he said. His tone was casual but there was no mistaking the apprehension in his voice.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I, uh, I really like her," he continued. "She's—"

"I don't want to hear about it," Lindsay interrupted.

"Oh. Uh, okay."

"Yeah, I'm—I'm gonna go now," she stammered, her voice shaking with anger.

"Oh. Wait, Lindsay—"

"No, I'm just—I'm done talking. Bye," she said, and hung up.


	9. Chapter 9

_March, 1988_

Michael went to his closet to get his jacket and shoes to go to lunch. As he was pulling on his jacket the phone on his desk rang. He went over to the desk and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said, sitting down.

"Hey, it's Linds."

"Oh, hi," Michael said, startled. They hadn't spoken since yesterday when she'd hung up on him. He felt kind of guilty, as he had stretched the truth a little. He had gone on two dates with a girl he'd met in his economics class, but they weren't really in a relationship yet. He had hoped that if Lindsay thought he'd moved on it would convince her to give up on him. He hadn't expected her to take it so badly. He was glad his roommate wasn't there, as he had no idea how this was going to go.

"I've got some big news," she said.

"Really, what is it?" he said, slightly alarmed by the forced cheerfulness in her voice.

"I'm going to LSU."

"What?"

"I got accepted last week and I decided I'm going to go there."

"LSU as in Louisiana State University?"

"Yeah, I don't think there are any other LSU's."

"I thought you wanted to go to Dominican," he said, bewildered. "Did you not get accepted?"

"No, I haven't heard back from them yet. But either way I'm going to choose LSU so it doesn't really matter."

"But…why?"

"Dominican's just so small. I don't think it's a good fit for me. LSU will be a lot more fun."

"I didn't even know you were applying there," he said, still trying to make sense of this.

"Yeah, the deadline was a little later than the others so I did that one after you left."

"It's so far away."

"Yeah, but I think it will be kind of nice to get away from home, you know?"

There was a little too much smugness in her tone. Was she doing this because she was mad at him?

"I was looking forward to you going to Dominican, so we could see each other more," he said, thinking she couldn't possibly be basing her entire college decision on trying to get back at him, but this was so out of the blue.

"Oh yeah. I'll still visit, though, and we can talk on the phone," she said. She was barely concealing the vindictiveness in her voice now. Michael didn't say anything for a moment, taken aback.

"Are you…mad at me?" he said finally.

"What?" she laughed. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Yesterday, when we talked—"

"You have a girlfriend," she interrupted. "It's fine."

"It doesn't seem like it," he said. This was insane, she was insane.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I tell you I'm seeing someone, you hang up on me, and the next day you tell me out of the blue that you're moving across the country?"

"Really, you think I'm choosing it just to get back at you?" she said coolly.

"That's what it looks like!" he said angrily.

"I _want_ to go there, I never even wanted to go to Dominican!" she exploded. "I was only going to so I could be closer to you, but I don't want that anymore!"

"Because I have a girlfriend? For god's sake, Lindsay, I'm your brother!"

"I don't care about that, I told you!"

"Then why are you doing this?!"

"I don't care that you have a girlfriend, you asshole! I'm mad at you because I told you I missed you and you seemed to think that I—that I still had feelings for you or something, and then you go and tell you me you're seeing someone like you're trying to—I mean, what _was_ that?! I can't even tell you I miss you anymore, after everything—"

She broke off. She sounded like she was trying not to cry. The silence hung in the air as Michael scrambled for something to say.

"I didn't mean it like that, I was just telling you because it's something that's going on in my life, that's all it was," he said desperately.

"That was not all it was," she said through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what you want me to say, I…I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but…you can't base your whole college decision on that—"

"I'm not, I never wanted to go to Dominican, okay?!" she said furiously. "Jesus, I was just calling to tell you I was going there and you turn it into this whole—Whatever, I'm done talking to you, bye," she said, and hung up.


	10. Chapter 10

_June, 1988_

Michael stared determinedly out the car window at the rows of traffic on the freeway, trying with difficulty to ignore the fact that Lindsay's thigh was pressed up against his. He was home for the summer and the family was driving to Uncle Jack's for his 75th birthday. As usual, the four Bluth kids were crammed in the backseat, and by some cruel twist of fate he and Lindsay had ended up next to each other. They'd spent the entire drive leaning away from each other as much as they could, but they couldn't keep their legs from touching.

George Sr. leaned closer to Lucille and said under his breath, "So you're prepared to, uh…" He glanced back at the kids and continued in an even lower voice, "…take another bullet for the Bluth Company?"

Lucille rolled her eyes. "Yes, George, I know the plan."

Michael ignored this. They always talked like this when they visited Uncle Jack. He assumed they were stealing money from him somehow but he didn't want to know the specifics. He looked hopelessly out at the traffic, which was now at a standstill. Would this drive ever end? His back was starting to hurt from leaning away from Lindsay.

Things were more awkward than ever between them. She'd hardly spoken to him since he'd come home a week ago, and when she did it was only to criticize whatever he was doing. He'd also noticed that she'd finally stopped wearing the necklace he'd given her, though that was somewhat of a relief.

He still felt bad for her, but she was making it increasingly difficult to. He knew he should have called her more after he left for college, but he'd apologized and called her every week after winter break until she blew it all up. When he tried to be friends again she kissed him, when he tried to get her to move on she decided to move to the other side of the country in revenge. He just wanted things to be normal again between them but she wasn't letting him. Now she was using every opportunity she had to make it clear that she was furious with him, when all he'd done was date someone else and tell her about it. Every time someone mentioned LSU it just reminded him how angry at her he was. He couldn't believe she would do something so crazy, but she'd officially accepted it now and was preparing to go there in August.

The one positive was that it was helping him get over her. He'd dated a couple girls since he left home, but as hard as he tried not to he couldn't stop comparing them to Lindsay, and he hadn't had any real feelings for either of them. In fact, he'd broken up with the one he'd told Lindsay about partly because she reminded him too much of her, and he'd realized with horror that he might have unconsciously been attracted to her for that reason. But now he was so angry at Lindsay that it was getting much easier to move on.

George Sr. looked back at him. "Hey, Michael, do we need to fill out any forms for your housing next year?"

"I've already taken care of it," Michael said.

"Of course you have," Lindsay muttered sarcastically.

"What, should I have left it 'til the last minute like you always do?" he retorted. Lindsay scowled. Michael went back to looking out the window.


	11. Chapter 11

_August, 1988_

Lindsay looked out the airplane window at the morning fog over Los Angeles. Her parents had just dropped her off at the airport and she was on her way to Baton Rouge. To her surprise, Michael had gotten up early to go the airport with her. She suspected it was out of guilt. They were much less hostile to each other now than they had been at the beginning of the summer, but there was still a tangible distance between them. But any good feelings toward him that this kind gesture had created were quickly dispelled by the stiff and impersonal way in which he'd hugged her goodbye.

She still wasn't sure she'd made the right decision in choosing LSU over Dominican. She had chosen it mainly to get back at him, but she'd meant it when she said she thought it would be a better fit for her. She'd been considering choosing it for months before Michael had told her he was dating someone else, but she'd been unable to let go of her fantasy of visiting each other every weekend and going to parties together and maybe eventually rekindling their relationship of last year. But it was becoming increasingly clear that that wasn't going to happen, and she didn't want to be near him if things were going to stay like this. She couldn't deny that she was still in love with him, or at least that she still desperately missed how things had been a year ago, but that was over whether she wanted it to be or not, and she was so tired of being in love with someone that was determined to suppress any feelings he had for her. She'd wasted her entire senior year of high school missing him and she didn't want to spend her freshman year of college the same way. She'd been so miserable for so long, and she was hoping leaving her family and going to college would be the fresh start she needed. Part of her still hoped Michael would change his mind. She knew in spite of herself that she'd take him back in a second if he did. But for now she just didn't want to think about him for a while.


	12. Chapter 12

_January, 1989_

Michael walked through the hallway of the business building, looking at the room numbers as he passed. It was the first day of winter term and he was about to start his intermediate accounting class. He found the right room and went in.

As he scanned the room for an open seat he recognized a girl in the second row. He laughed to himself. A couple months ago he'd found a spot he liked in the library and started doing all his studying there. Soon afterwards he'd noticed that someone else seemed to have chosen the spot a few tables away as her favorite. No matter what time of day or night he went there it seemed like she was always there, bent over a book and rapidly scribbling notes in her notebook, a curtain of red hair hiding her face. The more he saw her the more he wanted to get to know her, but he'd so far been unable to come up with a natural way to introduce himself. On a whim he crossed the room and took the seat next to her. He bent down to take his notebook and pencil out of his backpack, trying to think of something to say to her, but she beat him to it.

"Hey, you're the guy from the library," she said.

"Oh yeah," he said, caught off guard. "Yeah, I've seen you there too."

"It looks like we have the same favorite spot," she said. She was wearing a bright red sweater that clashed with her hair.

"Yeah, it's a good one, with all the sun…" What was wrong with him? "So are you a business major, too?" he said quickly, trying to cover up the awkwardness.

"Accounting and finance."

"Wow, double major. No wonder you're in the library all the time."

She laughed. He felt another rush of embarrassment. Did it seem weird that he'd noticed how much she was in the library?

"Yeah, I am there a lot," she said. "Seems like you are, too."

"Yeah, I guess so," he laughed, feeling a little better. The professor entered the room and the noise died down.

"I'm Tracey, by the way," the girl said.

"Michael," he replied. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."


	13. Chapter 13

_January, 1989_

"Financial statements generally include which of the following?" Tracey read from the practice test, sitting across from Michael in the study room in the library. "A, income statement. B, balance sheet. C, federal income tax return. D, statement of cash flows."

"C," Michael said. She checked the answer sheet.

"Yep."

Michael took the practice test from her and read. "Which of the following characteristics does not describe a liability? A, result of a past transaction. B, probable. C, present obligation. D, must be legally enforceable."

"D," she said.

"Yeah, that's right."

After embarrassing himself during their initial meeting Michael had been determined to redeem himself, and he'd sat next to Tracey again the next day. The second try had gone much more smoothly than the first, and the third even better than that, and for two weeks now they'd been sitting next to each other every class. He'd been arriving earlier and earlier so he would have more time to talk to her, and to his delight so had she, until they were both arriving almost ten minutes early every day. At the end of the most recent class she'd invited him to study with her for an upcoming test, which he'd of course eagerly accepted. He'd studied a lot beforehand in order to impress her, but to his surprise she was doing just as well as he was, if not better. She'd sped through the math section like lightning earlier and he was starting to feel a little frustrated, though impressed at the same time.

"A gain or loss should be reported on an income statement as an extraordinary item if it is due to a transaction considered…" she read. "A, to favorably affect taxes. B, extraordinarily large in amount. C, expected to materially impact the financial condition of the company. D, unusual in nature and infrequent in occurrence."

"D."

"Mm hm."

"In general, revenue is recognized when the earnings process is virtually complete and: A, production is completed. B, a purchase order is received. C, cash is collected. D, collection of the sales price is reasonably assured."

"D."

"Yep," he said, relieved he hadn't gotten that one. He would have picked C.

"A transaction that is unusual, but not infrequent, should be reported separately as a: A, extraordinary item, net of applicable income taxes. B, extraordinary item, but not net of applicable income taxes. C, component of income from continuing operations, net of applicable income taxes. D, component of income from continuing operations, but not net of applicable income taxes."

"Uh…" Michael said, trying to remember the reading he'd done the night before. He knew it was C or D, but he couldn't remember if it was net of applicable income taxes or not. "D," he guessed.

"Yeah, good job."

"Thanks," he said, relieved. "Okay, the underlying assumption that presumes a company will continue indefinitely is: A, going concern. B, periodicity. C, economic entity. D, monetary unit."

Tracey hesitated. Michael wondered if he'd finally stumped her.

"A," she said.

Michael checked the answer sheet. "Yep, that's right."

She smiled. "Okay, so for the next one you're supposed to look at these numbers and find the accounts receivable turnover."

"Okay," Michael said, taking the test from her. Yes, he knew how to do this. He rapidly calculated the answer, trying to beat her time from earlier.

"8.33," he said.

"No, sorry, it's ten."

"What?"

She took the test from him and looked over his work. "Oh, it was just a little mistake. See, you wrote 600,000 here instead of 500,000."

Michael looked at it. "Oh yeah," he said, cursing himself for not checking his work.

"Everything else was right, though," she said. "Okay, so now I find the shareholder's equity…"

Michael took the answer sheet as she solved the problem. This was the last one. Part of him was hoping she would get it wrong to validate his own wrong answer, but he also kind of wanted to see if she could continue her streak. Either way he was very impressed. And she looked so cute squinting her blue eyes in concentration at the paper as she quickly wrote down her calculations, tucking her hair behind her ear so it wouldn't get in the way.

"Twenty-five percent," she said.

Michael laughed. "Right again."

She laughed too, looking pleased with herself. "Well, I guess that's it. Thanks for studying with me."

"No problem. It looks like you're plenty ready for tomorrow."

"You too!"

"Thanks," he laughed.

"Well, I'd better get going or I'll be late for work."

"Okay," Michael said as she packed up her books. "Where do you work?"

"The Cheeseboard Pizza."

"Oh yeah," he said, recognizing the name.

"Have you been there?"

"No, but I've heard it's good."

"It is, you should stop by sometime."

"Yeah, I should," he said. He should ask her now, she was about to leave.

"Well, good luck on the test tomorrow," she said, putting on her backpack.

"Thanks, you too," he said, panicking. "Wait," he said, standing up as she opened the door. "I, uh, I was wondering if you might want to go do something sometime. Maybe dinner or something?"

She grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great," he said, relieved. "Are you free on Friday?"

"Yeah, I have work until six, but after that is fine."

"Great."

"Yeah," she said, still smiling widely. "Well, I'd better go. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you," he said, unable to stop himself from grinning as well.


	14. Chapter 14

_January, 1989_

"Do you want to play some music?" Michael asked Tracey as he drove them home from their date. He'd taken her to a fancy dinner in San Francisco, hoping to impress her, followed by a walk through the gardens at the Palace of Fine Arts. He wished he'd been a little less awkward on a handful of occasions, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Sure," she replied.

Michael turned on the radio. "What station do you like to listen to?" he asked.

"Um, I like 95.7."

"Okay," he said, turning to the station. He was surprised to hear country music playing.

"Do you like country music?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he lied. "Love it."

"Really?" she said excitedly.

"Yeah, it's great."

"Who's your favorite artist?"

"Oh… Uh, it's so hard to choose just one…"

She smirked. "You don't actually listen to it, do you?"

He laughed sheepishly. "Not really. I do like it though, I just don't listen to it very often." She laughed. "Where did you say you were from again?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Alturas."

"Oh yeah, in Northern California, right?"

"Yeah, it's in the Northeastern corner, near Nevada."

"What is it like? I've never been there."

"Yeah, most people haven't," she laughed. "Uh, it's very small, rural, in the middle of nowhere. Kind of the opposite of LA."

He laughed. He'd told her he was from Los Angeles instead of Newport Beach, not wanting her to think he was some spoiled rich kid. "It must have been a big change coming here, then," he said.

"Yeah, it was definitely a shock. I'd only left the county twice before then."

"Oh wow."

"Yeah. It's a big county, but still…"

He laughed. "Which do you like better, here or Alturas?"

"Here. No question."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Alturas can get kind of boring. There's so much more to do here, and all kinds of people. I really like going to Cal, too. What about you, do you prefer Berkeley or Los Angeles?"

"Hm… I don't know. I guess Los Angeles. It's nice to be away from home, though."

"Yeah, that's the biggest thing for me, too," she said emphatically.

"What's your family like?" he asked, thinking it couldn't possibly be worse than his.

"Uh, it's just me and my mom. We're not very close."

"I'm not very close with my mom, either."

"Hm," she said. Michael drove onto the campus and started heading towards her dorm. "How many people are in your family?" Tracey asked.

"Six including me. Three siblings, plus my mom and dad."

"Oh, I always wanted siblings."

"Don't worry, you're not missing much."

She laughed. "Are they older or younger?"

"I'm in the middle. One older brother, one younger brother, and a twin sister."

"You're a twin?"

"Yeah."

"Does she go to Cal?"

"No, she's in Louisiana, actually. She's going to LSU."

"Oh. Wow, that's so far."

"Yeah…"

"Do you wish she was closer or did you want to go to different schools?"

"Uh… I don't know. I guess it's just kind of how it worked out." He didn't know how he felt about Lindsay anymore. Enough time had passed that he wasn't mad at her, but they never called other anymore. He arrived at Tracey's dorm and stopped.

"Well, I guess this is me," she said. "Thanks for taking me out. I had a great time."

"Me too," Michael said sincerely. He hesitated, his heart beating faster. It was only their first date, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone so quickly. Before he could change his mind he leaned over and kissed her. She jumped a little in surprise, making him instantly regret his decision, but then she kissed him back with surprising enthusiasm. He breathed an inward sigh of relief and deepened the kiss, putting his hand in her pretty red hair. She sat up in her seat to get closer to him. He did the same, breathing in the smell of her perfume, like vanilla and flowers, a little surprised by how well this was going.

They jumped at the sound of a car honking and pulled away from each other. He looked back and saw that there was a car waiting behind them.

"Whoops," Tracey laughed, a little breathlessly. She quickly got out of the car. "Well, good night."

"Good night," he laughed, a little dizzy himself. She shut the door behind her. He quickly started driving, glancing back at her as she walked away.


	15. Chapter 15

_March, 1989_

Michael walked down the sidewalk past the various shops and restaurants in North Berkeley towards the pizza place where Tracey worked. It was a Friday evening and he wanted to take her out to dinner. He reached the pizza place and saw Tracey at the cash register through the window. She smiled and waved when she saw him. He waved back and sat down at one of the tables outside and waited for her shift to end, enjoying the warm spring air.

He and Tracey had been dating for almost two months now. The more he got to know her the more excited about this new relationship he became. She was so different from everyone else in his life, so genuine and down-to-earth. He loved the slight accent in her high, airy voice and the way she talked about Berkeley like it was a big city, how she was the first person in her family to go to college and how she'd gotten into UC Berkeley solely through her own determination and hard work. She was certainly hardworking. It seemed like every minute of the day she was either studying or working at the pizza place. It was a bit of a problem since she rarely had time for dates, but they had a lot of fun staying up late studying together.

He looked up as the door opened and saw Tracey walking towards him. "Hi," she said, smiling that big, adorable smile of hers.

"Hi," he said, standing up and kissing her. He had to bend down, as she was at least six inches shorter than him. "How was your day?"

"Long. How was yours?"

"Not bad. Better now."

She laughed and raised her eyebrows. He laughed, too, and they started walking in the direction of campus. The evening sky cast a purple light on the buildings and sidewalks. Tracey took a water bottle out of her purse. "Here, I got this for us," she said.

"Oh. Okay."

She laughed. "It's vodka."

"Oh," he laughed, surprised. "Great."

She took a drink and gave it to him. He took it from her and drank. One thing he'd learned in the last two months was that Tracey was a surprisingly heavy drinker, something that didn't seem to fit with her sweet appearance but had certainly led to some fun times together. "Where do you want to go for dinner?" he asked.

"Oh, I thought we were just eating on campus."

"No, it's Friday, I want to take you somewhere special."

"Ooh, okay. Um, I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

"No, you choose, you've had a long day."

"As long as it's not pizza I'm fine with anything."

"Well, you've got to be more specific than that. What's your favorite food?"

She laughed. "Well, I doubt any restaurants serve them, but that would have to be snowballs."

"Sorry?"

"You know, snowballs? Those little cake things with the coconut and the marshmallow filling?" He shook his head. "You've never had them?" she said incredulously.

"No, I don't think so," he laughed.

"Oh, you've got to try them. We should get some after dinner."

"Okay, sure," he laughed.


	16. Chapter 16

_March, 1989_

Michael walked through the aisles of the gas station he and Tracey had gone to after dinner, scanning the shelves for the sno balls. They'd drunk quite a bit of her water bottle of vodka and they were both a little tipsy.

"Found them!" Tracey said from the next aisle over. Michael went over to join her.

"Oh yeah," he said, seeing the plastic packages of coconut-covered cakes. He reached for a package of green ones.

"No, you gotta get the pink ones," she said.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yeah, the pink ones are better!"

"Okay," he laughed, putting them back and getting the pink ones instead. Tracey got another package for herself and they walked towards the counter.

"I'll pay for these," Tracey said.

"No, that's okay."

"You paid for dinner."

"It's fine, really, it's probly only like a dollar, anyway—hey!" he said as she took the sno balls out of his hands. He laughed as she ran to the counter and put them down.

"We'll, uh, we'll take these," she giggled.

"That'll be one fifteen," the cashier said, looking a little annoyed. Tracey blushed and quickly took the money out of her purse, struggling with the zipper.

"Do you want a receipt?" he asked.

"No, that's okay. Thanks!" She took the sno balls and she and Michael walked outside. It was dark now and the air was cooler, though still pleasant. "Where should we eat these?" Tracey asked.

"Uh, d'you wanna go back to campus?"

"Sure." They started walking in the direction of the campus. As they were walking they passed a house with a Bluth Company sign in the yard. "Hey, Bluth, like your name," Tracey said, pointing to it.

"Oh yeah…" Michael said. He hadn't told her what his father did for a living, a little nervous after some of her disdainful comments about the 'richies' in their accounting class. He quickly tried to decide if he could get away with not telling her now.

"That's funny, I've never met anyone else with that name," she said.

Michael hesitated. She would probably find out eventually anyway. "That's actually my dad's company," he said tentatively. She laughed, seeming to think he was joking. He grimaced.

"Wait, seriously?" she said.

"Yeah…"

"Your dad's company, like—like he started it?"

"Yep."

"Oh my god, are you rich?"

He laughed embarrassedly. "Uh, I guess relatively speaking…"

She guffawed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno, it just never came up."

She laughed again. "Oh my god, I'm dating a richie," she said. "What're my friends back home gonna think?"

"Okay, I get it," he laughed. She laughed, too. They were on campus now.

"Well, that explains a lot," she said.

"Like what?" he laughed, a little indignantly.

"Like—like our first date, when you spent all that money on dinner. I was like, 'Wow, he must really like me.'"

"I do really like you."

"Aww, I really like you, too. But serusly, that was a lot to spend on a first date." Michael thought back to their first date. He'd been trying to impress her, but he didn't think it had been anything too outlandish. "Here, this is a good spot," she said, going over to an out-of-the-way bench under a tree. Michael sat down with her and they opened the sno balls.

"I'm excited to try these," he said.

"You should be, they're amazing." She took a bite and closed her eyes. "Mmm, so good."

Michael took a bite of his. It was very sweet. He didn't see what the big deal was.

"Whadya think?" she said excitedly.

"It's good. Yeah, really good."

She laughed. "You liar."

"No, really!"

She laughed again. "Sno balls and vodka, you must think I'm so classy. Is this what you eat in the Bluth household?"

"Well, we do have a lot of vodka."

"Really?" she laughed.

"Yeah. Espeshy my mom, I think she's an alcoholic."

"Hey, me too!"

"What?"

"My mom, she's an alcoholic, too."

"Oh," he laughed, not sure how to respond to that.

"Well, I guess we have one thing in common," she said.

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."


	17. Chapter 17

_March, 1989_

"You're so great," Michael said sleepily, looking up at the blossoms in the tree above them glowing in the light of the streetlight. They were lying on the bench with his arms around her, the empty water bottle and sno ball packages lying on the ground beside them.

" _You're_ so great," she said. He smiled.

"No, I mean, you're so… so _diffrent_ , from anyone I know."

"Diffrent how?"

"Like…like you're so… _real_ and…and down-to-earth…"

She laughed. "You mean redneck?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm really wasted, nothin's comin' out right."

"Me too," she laughed, rolling onto her side to face him. "No, it's sweet. _You're_ sweet." She kissed him. "I really like you."

"I really like you, too."

"Mm," she laughed, and kissed him again. She pulled away and lay back down on the bench. Michael looked up at the night sky again and tried to commit this moment to memory, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol and the cool night air and the softness of her body against his. He wondered hopefully if the night would end with them having sex. They hadn't done anything beyond making out yet.

"My gramma used to get these for me," Tracey mumbled, hanging her arm off the bench and fiddling with a sno ball wrapper on the ground. "We'd go swimming on Saturday and get these after."

"What's she like?" Michael asked curiously. Tracey hadn't mentioned any family members besides her mother, and even her she'd only talked very sparingly about.

"She was nice," Tracey said. "She died when I was fourteen. Cancer."

"Oh. Sorry," Michael said awkwardly, having trouble figuring out what to say to that in his drunken state.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "But yeah, we were close. She was much better than my mom."

"What's your mom like?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. Tracey laughed.

"Awful. I haven't even talked to her in two years, since I left home."

"Not even once?" he said, surprised.

"Yeah. It's better that way, I'm happier without her." She laughed. "You must think I'm crazy."

"No, I'm sure you have a good reason."

"Yeah… She's just…not a good mom. I was always on my own, she didn't care what I did. I bet she doesn't even care that I haven't called her, she's prolly glad to be rid of me. I'm glad to be rid of her too, leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me," she said bitterly. She laughed. "Sorry, that was a lotta complaining. I get angry when I'm drunk."

He laughed. "No, it's fine. Sorry you had to deal with that."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"What about your dad?" he asked, thinking he should really stop asking all these personal questions but unable to stop himself. He loved hearing about her life before she came to Berkeley.

"Never met him. According to my mom he's some famous actor or director or something. Don' remember who. I doubt it's true anyway. But enough about _me_ ," she said, snuggling up to him again. "What about you, what's your mom like?"

"Uh... You wouldn't like her."

"Why not?" she laughed.

"She's just…unpleasant. She drinks a lot, plays mind games with us, yells at our housekeeper…"

"You have a _housekeeper_?"

"Oh. Yeah," he laughed embarrassedly, wishing he hadn't mentioned that.

"Does she, like, live with you?"

"No, she goes home at night," he said indignantly.

"Oh my _god_ ," she laughed. "Sorry, continue."

"Oh, I'm done."

" _Nooo,_ I didn't mean to, like, belittle your problems or anything, your mom sounds bad too."

He laughed. "No, she's not _that_ bad. She has good moments. She's worse to my sister."

"Your twin?"

"Yeah, Lindsay. She was awful to her, always cricizing her, saying she was overweight. Which she wasn't, she was way too thin. She got anorexia it got so bad."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And she _still_ kept saying she ate too much. My mom, I mean," he said, enjoying having someone to complain to.

"Wow."

"Yeah. The rest of my family wasn't any help either, they didn't even notice. I kept telling them but they didn't believe me until she passed out." He stopped, suddenly realizing Lindsay probably wouldn't want him sharing this information, especially not with his girlfriend.

"That must've been scary," Tracey said.

"Yeah," he said uncomfortably, guiltily thinking about how Lindsay would react if she knew about this.

"When was this?" Tracey asked.

"Uh, two years ago. Or three, I guess," he said. Had it really been almost three years? "I probly shouldn't be telling you about it actually, she might not want me to."

"Oh. Yeah," she said. She looked away, seemingly lost in thought. Michael looked up at the sky again, struggling to do the math to figure out if it really had been three years. How long had it been since he'd last talked to Lindsay? Not since Christmas when they'd both been home, and he couldn't remember talking to her on the phone at all in the last year. He hoped she was doing okay in Louisiana, he was feeling a little guilty now about how far they'd drifted apart.

Suddenly Tracey turned back to him and kissed him. He laughed in surprise and kissed her back. She deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He did the same and pulled her closer to him, loving how small and delicate she felt in his arms. She pulled away.

"My roommate's gone, d'you wanna go back to my room?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he said immediately.

She laughed. "Okay, let's go."


	18. Chapter 18

_July, 1989_

Lindsay sat impatiently outside a movie theater near downtown Los Angeles, waiting for her boyfriend, Scott, who was supposed to have met her there ten minutes ago. The night was oppressively hot and she could feel her leather mini skirt sticking to her skin. Where the hell was he? He could just be stuck in traffic, but this wasn't the first time he'd been late.

She was back in Los Angeles for the summer, possibly for longer. College had not worked out like she'd hoped. The worst part was that it hadn't failed to meet her expectations in any way. She'd made friends quickly, gone to wild parties every weekend like she'd always fantasized about, had several flings with the kinds of guys that used to make her go crazy, but she still felt so frustratingly empty. And on top of that she'd failed half her classes. She'd been putting in even less effort than she had in high school, only bothering to show up to class half the time, and sometimes not even that.

Things had improved a little since she'd come home for the summer in May. She'd met a great guy (though that relationship was quickly turning sour), and her father had given her a summer job at the Bluth Company. She'd quickly figured out that he would pay her whether she showed up or not, and it was nice to have the extra spending money. She was starting to think she might not go back to college in the fall. The money from her new job was almost enough for a decent apartment in Los Angeles and her parents would probably supplement the rest, so she could still live by herself and feel like she had some independence. What was the point in wasting another three years in college when she already had a job?

Another plus was that Michael was gone. He'd visited for a week in June, but then he'd gone right back to take classes over the summer. Something about the way he'd talked about it made her think he was hiding something, but she couldn't imagine what. She didn't care as long as he wasn't here. Things were pretty much back to normal between them now, but she still didn't like being around him. She didn't like how okay he seemed to be without her, and part of her was still stinging from what had happened two years ago. When he was gone she at least didn't think about it so much.

She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes now. Had he actually forgotten? Her patience with him was already dangerously low. Their relationship had started out so well, but ever since his ex-girlfriend had returned from her semester abroad he'd seemed much more interested in spending time with her. Lindsay had made her objections to this very clear, but every time he brushed her off, saying they were just friends and that she was overreacting. She stood up and huffily walked over to a payphone. This was getting ridiculous. She quickly paid and dialed the number, a little too forcefully, then put the receiver to her ear and waited. He might not be home. He _shouldn't_ be home, he should be on his way here.

"Hello?" she heard Scott say, sending a flash of anger through her.

"Hi, it's Lindsay," she said stiffly.

"Oh, shit, I was supposed to meet you. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot."

"Is that Lindsay?" she heard a female voice say in the background.

"Is Laura with you?!" Lindsay said incredulously.

"Oh, yeah, we were just hanging out—"

"Oh my god!" Lindsay said in disbelief. "You know what? We're done!"

"What? Lindsay—" he started to say, but she hung up dramatically before he could finish.

She stood there for a moment, blood pounding in her ears, relishing the feeling of self-righteous indignation. She vaguely registered the sound of chanting in the distance among the sounds of the traffic but she didn't pay any attention to it. She went back to the bench and sat down. She sat there for a while, trying to figure out where to go now. She didn't want to go home, the thought was too depressing. She could still go to the movie, but going by herself would be even sadder than spending the rest of the night at home.

Maybe she shouldn't have done that. He was an asshole, but at least he'd made her feel wanted and distracted her a little from her loneliness. Or at least he used to, until that ugly bitch had come home. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away in annoyance, trying not smudge her makeup. The bastard didn't deserve her. But the thought just made her cry more because she didn't believe it. She couldn't call him back and tell him she'd changed her mind, she at least had enough pride that she couldn't stomach that, but she didn't know what to do now, he'd been the one bright spot in her life these last few months.

The chanting grew louder. She looked up and saw people marching down the street carrying signs. It looked like some kind of protest. She watched them curiously as they walked down the street towards her. On a whim she got up and walked over to them.

"Hey, excuse me," she said to one of the protesters at the edge of the crowd. He stopped and looked over at her. "What are you protesting?" she asked him.

"Uhh…" he said, looking a little lost. "Let's see, it was…" He looked up at the posters. "Nelson Mandela. Yes, that's it, that's what he said…"

"Really," she said, trying to act interested. All she knew about Nelson Mandela was that he had something to do with Africa and that she should know more about him.

"Yes," he said. He grabbed a flier from one of the protesters and gave it to her. "Here, you can read all about it here."

Lindsay took the flier and quickly skimmed it, gleaning that Nelson Mandela had been in prison for twenty-six years for protesting against racism or something and President Bush wasn't doing anything about it. "This is terrible!" she said.

"Yes, yes, terrible," he said distractedly, looking through the crowd. He seemed to be looking for someone.

"You know what? I'm going to join you guys," Lindsay said. She didn't have anything else to do, and this looked like it could be fun.

"Oh," he said. "Great, thank you." Lindsay began walking alongside the protesters. He did, too, still looking through the crowd. He went up to a tall, well-built man in the crowd and touched his shoulder. "Brad? Is that you?" he said. The protester turned around. "Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Who are you looking for?" Lindsay asked.

"A friend. Or acquaintance, I suppose. Hopefully soon-to-be friend," he said, crossing his fingers. "I overheard him saying he would be here, but I haven't seen him yet…"

"Do you do these protest things often?"

"Uh…yeah, you could say that."

"That's so cool," she said.

"Thank you," he said, brightening with the praise. "Yes, I try to, you know, do my part to make a difference."

"That's great. I've always been very political myself," she said importantly. This was stretching the truth to the breaking point—the only time she could remember even watching the news was when she'd had to for a project in order to pass eighth grade social studies. But she'd always liked to think of herself as the liberal one in the family, and she was impressed with this group and wanted to fit in with them. "I'm Lindsay, by the way," she said, offering her hand. He shook it.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "My name is Tobias, Tobias Fünke."

"Nice to meet you," she said. She listened to hear what the protesters were saying and joined in. She vaguely noticed that her feet were hurting in her heels, but she didn't care. She was actually really enjoying herself now. She liked feeling like she was a part of something important, and the energy of the crowd was infectious. Maybe this night hadn't been such a waste after all. "Tell me more about yourself," she said to Tobias, looking at him more closely. He looked a little older than her, probably mid-twenties.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I'm a medical student at UCLA."

"Wow, that's awesome," she said, feeling less impressive by the second.

"Thank you," he said, clearly pleased by her reaction. "Yes, I'm training to be a sort of hybrid analyst and therapist. I'll be the first ever, it's kind of a groundbreaking thing. I've been trying to come up with a catchy name for it."

"That sounds really interesting."

"Why, thank you. It really is a fascinating field, if you'd like to hear more about it."

"I'd love to."


	19. Chapter 19

_July, 1989_

"That was so fun!" Lindsay said. She and Tobias were sitting on the steps outside the courthouse. The protest had just ended.

"It _was_ fun," Tobias agreed, still looking a little lost but like he was enjoying himself nonetheless. Lindsay smiled at him. She wanted to see him again. He wasn't exactly her type, a little out of shape and already going bald, but he wasn't bad-looking, and she was so impressed by his ambitious career goals and interest in social justice, and a little turned on by the idea of dating someone so much older than her. She thought about how much this night had turned around. She wished Scott could see her now.

"Hey, do you want to get together sometime?" she said impulsively.

"Get together?"

"Yeah, you know…" she said, smiling shyly at him. "Like a date."

Tobias's eyes widened. "A date," he repeated. "With me?"

"Yes, with you!" Lindsay laughed.

"Uh…okay, yes. Yes!" he said, looking more confused than ever. It was very endearing, and flattering, too.

"Great. Here." Lindsay took a pen and a stray receipt out of her purse and wrote her phone number on it. She handed it to him. "So I'll see you around?"

"Yes. Yes, you will," he said enthusiastically.

"Great," she said, smiling flirtatiously, and flounced away.


	20. Chapter 20

_September, 1989_

Michael bent over his accounting textbook, teeth clenched in annoyance as his new roommate crunched distractingly on his lunch, the remains of which he was sure to leave out for days unless Michael intervened. His junior year had just begun and he was rooming with his friend, who had turned out to be the world's messiest roommate.

On top of his annoyance he was feeling a little uneasy. He and Tracey always ate lunch together, but she hadn't shown up today. It was probably nothing, but she'd also been uncharacteristically irritable with him lately. It was very confusing, as until about a week ago things had been better than ever between them. He was even crazier about her now than when they'd started dating, and she seemed to feel the same way. He still felt like he was taking the relationship a little more seriously than she was, but it looked like that was beginning to change. He'd taken classes over the summer just to have an excuse to stay in Berkeley with her. He'd told his family he was doing it so he could graduate earlier—they didn't even know he was dating anyone, as he'd learned long ago that the less any of them knew about his love life the better. He was especially nervous about how Lindsay would react if she knew he was in a serious relationship. She seemed to be over all that now, but he couldn't be sure.

He heard a knock on the door and got up and opened it. He smiled when he saw that it was Tracey.

"Hi," he said, pleased to see her. His smile slipped when he saw the look on her face. It looked like she'd been crying.

"I, uh, I need to talk to you," she stammered, looking somewhat dazed.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said, confused. He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and followed her to the end of the hall. He was feeling more and more and nervous by the second. Was she going to break up with him? No, there had been nothing to suggest that besides her recent moodiness, and it wouldn't explain why she'd been crying anyway. Maybe something had happened to her mother? Tracey stepped into the stairwell. He followed her and closed the door behind them. Tracey stood in silence for a moment, looking down at her feet.

"What's going—"

"I'm pregnant," she said.

Michael blinked. "You're…" he said in a daze. "Are you sure?"

"Mm hm," she squeaked, her eyes filling with tears.

"But…how? We always…"

"It must've been last month, after that party."

Michael leaned back against the wall for support. He remembered that night, both of them drunk and out of condoms. He'd thought just one time… "Oh my god," he groaned, panicking. "Ah… Are you going to get it—"

"No," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "No, I don't—I don't want to."

Michael's eyes widened. This couldn't be happening, they couldn't have a baby…

"It's just like my mom," he vaguely heard Tracey saying, her voice sounding far away to him. "What am I going to do? I can't—I have to graduate, I have to!"

She started breathing quickly, tears streaming down her face. Michael finally snapped out of it and hugged her. She leaned into him with her whole body and sobbed. He held her tightly, one hand on the back of her head, still feeling like this couldn't be real.

"It's okay, we'll—we'll figure it out, it will be okay," he said, though he had no idea how they could raise a baby while both staying in school. Jesus Christ, he wasn't ready to have a baby.

"You're going to stay with me?" she choked.

"Wha—yeah, of course," he said, hurt that she would think he might not. "Yeah, we'll do this together, we'll figure it out."

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He couldn't tell if it was out of relief or disdain for his optimism.

"Don't worry, we can do this," he said, trying to convince himself as well as her. She didn't say anything, she just held him tighter.


	21. Chapter 21

_September, 1989_

"This is just like our first date," Tracey said as she and Michael walked through the gardens at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco, the evening light casting a blue tint on her pale skin.

"Yeah, I thought it would be fun to do it again," he said.

"Yeah, it is. It does feel a little weird to be on a date, though, given the circumstances."

"Why?" he laughed.

"I don't know. I guess it just feels weird for things to be continuing like usual. It's nice, though. You've been really great this last week, thank you."

"Any time," Michael laughed, trying with difficulty to conceal his nerves.

The truth was that he'd taken her here tonight to propose to her. He'd started thinking about it almost immediately after she'd told him she was pregnant a week ago, and that night he'd realized there was really no question. He knew they were young and they hadn't known each other very long, but they were going to be raising a child together anyway, they might as well get married. It would be best for their son or daughter if their parents were married. (It was unsettling but also exciting to be thinking about what would be best for his son or daughter.) And he loved her, he loved her now more than ever. He had no problem committing to her for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine meeting anyone else he'd rather be with. He knew he was probably being naïve, but the more he thought about having a family with her the more excited he became, and part of him was actually glad this had happened. He'd always known he would get married someday, but in his mind it had always been to some faceless stranger. Now he knew who it was and it was _Tracey_. If she said yes. He was more than a little afraid that she wouldn't. She'd seemed to view their relationship more casually than he did from the beginning, but she did seem to love him, especially this past week, and it made sense for them to get married under the circumstances.

He hadn't told anyone about his plans or even about Tracey's pregnancy yet besides his mother. She'd chewed him out for not being more careful and hadn't exactly been supportive of his decision to propose to her, but when she'd realized she couldn't talk him out of it she'd offered to help them with money until he graduated and got a job. She'd also supplemented the money he'd earned from selling a bunch of his things to help him buy an engagement ring, which was a little embarrassing but also much appreciated. Tracey wasn't the kind of person who cared about things like that but he still wanted to give her a nice one. When he got a job he would pay his parents back for everything.

They reached the rotunda. It was time, he had to do it now, but he wasn't ready, his heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. He took a deep breath.

"You know, I've been thinking about when I used to see you in the library, before I met you," he said, trying to keep his voice steady while he recited the speech he'd planned. Tracey smiled. "No matter what time I went there you were always there studying. At first I thought it was a crazy coincidence but then I realized you must just study all the time. I knew even then that I wanted to get to know you."

"You're so sweet," she laughed.

"And I was right," Michael continued. "Because the more I get to know you the more I fall in love with you. And I know that's just going to continue. So even though we didn't plan this and it's a little scary right now, I wouldn't change a thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Michael, what are you saying?" Tracey said. He dropped down on one knee.

"Marry me," he said breathlessly.

Tracey clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god," she said. "Yes, yes!"

She laughed weakly, her eyes filling with tears. Michael laughed, too, mostly out of relief. He slid the ring onto her finger and stood up and kissed her. She laughed again and wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you," she said through her tears. It was the first time she'd said it.

"I love you, too," he said softly, and kissed her again, and as terrified as he was that they might not be able to pull all this off, in that moment it felt like everything was falling into place.


	22. Chapter 22

_September, 1989_

Lindsay stepped into her new Los Angeles apartment, still feeling some lingering excitement from the protest she'd just returned from. She and Tobias were going to protests, political rallies, and charity events all the time now. She loved it. She didn't know how she'd been so apathetic before. It was so good to feel like she was doing something that mattered. And it was even more fun with Tobias. He was the complete opposite of most of the guys she'd dated, but that was part of what she liked about him. The fact that it wasn't his appearance that attracted her to him made her feel like their relationship was more meaningful. It was such a relief after two years of dating guys she didn't actually care about just for the distraction. Her one complaint was that he was taking things a little too slow—they hadn't done anything beyond kissing yet. She appreciated that he was trying to be a gentleman, but she was ready to speed things up now and he didn't seem to be getting the hint.

She took off her shoes and jacket and went into the kitchen. She saw that she had a new message on her answering machine and played it. She was surprised to hear Michael's voice.

"Hey, Lindsay, it's Michael. I hope you're doing well. I, uh, I have something to tell you, so please call me when you get the chance. Thanks."

Lindsay picked up the phone and dialed his number, her curiosity outweighing her aversion to talking to him. _I have something to tell you…_

 _Don't be an idiot,_ she thought, hating herself.

"Hello?" she heard Michael say.

"Hi, it's Lindsay. I got your message."

"Oh yeah," he said. He sounded nervous.

"So what did you want to tell me?"

There was a pause. "Uh… Okay, it's good news, but it's a lot to hear at once, so just be prepared for that."

"Uh, okay?" she laughed.

"Okay, so I've been dating this girl for a while. Her name is Tracey. She's really amazing, I think you'll really like her."

"Wait, what—what's going on?" she interrupted.

"Uh…Well, it turns out she's pregnant."

Lindsay's eyes widened. "Oh, god."

"I know, but it's okay, we'll figure it out," he said quickly. "I, uh…We're going to get married."

Lindsay blinked. She swayed a little and gripped the counter for support. "Wait, wha—you can't be serious," she stammered.

"I know it's really soon, but it makes sense, we're going to be raising a child together."

"She's keeping it?" Lindsay said, the pitch of her voice rising in panic.

"Yeah," he said, audibly recoiling from her reaction.

"Oh my god," she said frantically. "How could you let this happen? I mean, god, you're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"I know, I messed up, okay?"

"She can still—she can get an abortion, can't she?"

"She doesn't want to."

"Well, convince her!"

"I can't 'convince her,' it's her decision."

"It affects you, too!"

"I don't want her to either! I know it's a lot to take on, but we can handle it. I'm actually kind of excited about it now."

"Michael, think about this, you can't take care of a baby right now."

"Could you just—I know it's not going to be easy, okay? I'm just trying to make the best of it, so some encouragement would be nice."

"You don't have to marry her," she said weakly.

"Yes, I do."

"You can still support her, you don't need to get married!" she said desperately. She couldn't lose him for good, she couldn't go through the rest of her life like this.

"I want to. I know we're young, but…I love her, I want to marry her."

Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut. There had to be something, _something_ she could say that would change his mind.

"Do you want to know more about her?" Michael asked tentatively. Lindsay laughed incredulously. "What?" he said indignantly. "You're going to have to meet her soon anyway, she's going to be your sister-in-law."

"Oh, joy."

"Just give her a chance, she's a really nice person."

"I'm sure she is," she said dryly.

"Stop acting like this, this doesn't even affect you!"

"Doesn't—how can you say that?!" Lindsay exploded, her eyes filling with tears. Her words hung in the air. She closed her eyes, realizing too late what she'd almost admitted. "It's just, you're my brother, it affects me," she said. He didn't say anything. "But whatever, if you want to—ugh, just, I've said what I think about it," she said, and quickly hung up.


	23. Chapter 23

_October, 1989_

"Slow down, dear," Lucille said as Lindsay ate her lobster ravioli. Her mother had taken her out to an Italian restaurant, continuing their new tradition of going out to eat together once a month. "That skirt looks like it's already stretched to its limit."

"That's funny, I was about to tell you to slow down," Lindsay said without missing a beat. "I don't have time to drive you home tonight, so easy on the wine."

Lucille smirked, Lindsay's retort apparently having no effect on her. Nevertheless, Lindsay felt somewhat proud of herself. She'd gotten better at taking her mother's criticism. She took another bite of her dinner just to show that she hadn't gotten to her, though she did eat a little more slowly.

"So, how is your new apartment working out?" Lucille asked, returning to her own meal.

"Good, I really like it."

"Good. What about that little nelly, are you still dating him?"

Lindsay blushed. "He's not gay, I told you," she said in annoyance. She'd brought Tobias to meet her parents a few weeks ago, and after he made some unfortunately phrased remarks about their waiter Lucille was convinced that he was gay. "But yes, I am still dating Tobias, and I really like him. It's so refreshing to talk to someone that doesn't only care about themselves," she said pointedly.

Lucille raised an eyebrow. "Regardless, I don't want you being public about your relationship with him. It reflects badly on me and your father that our daughter would have such poor judgment."

Lindsay laughed incredulously. "You've got to be joking. I'll tell whoever I want."

Lucille rolled her eyes. "Alright, but don't come running to me when he leaves you for a man."

Lindsay's face grew warm. "I don't know why I keep having dinner with you, all you do is criticize me the whole time," she muttered.

"Oh, please, and miss out on a free meal? That doesn't sound like you."

"You're just jealous because you're all old and gross now. That's why Dad keeps going on all those 'business trips,' isn't it, and you're taking it out on me."

Lucille raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "Well, look who came ready to fight."

Lindsay blushed. That was probably too far, that wasn't the kind of thing you said to your own mother. She was just so sick of hearing about her weight, she'd wanted to say something that would really hurt her.

"By the way," Lucille said, the slyness in her voice making Lindsay nervous. "Did you get your invitation to Michael's wedding? I got mine this morning."

Lindsay froze. Why was she bringing that up now?

"I, uh, I haven't checked my mailbox in a few days," she said apprehensively.

"Ah. Well, I have mine here, here you go," she said, taking an envelope out of her purse and sliding it across the table to her. Lindsay took it and pulled the invitation out of the envelope, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the picture. There she was, a real person that he was going to marry. She looked so sweet with her big smile, bright red curls, and flouncy powder blue dress. She was like a human cupcake. _Tracey Anne Weber._ For god's sake. And there was Michael, smiling at Tracey like he used to smile at her. And her stomach protruding slightly under her dress… December, it said, only two months away, they must be rushing it so she wouldn't be showing too much.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Lucille said, watching her closely.

"Uh, yeah," Lindsay stammered distractedly.

"Yes, it makes sense that he would choose her."

Lindsay looked up at her. Did she mean what she thought she meant? She thought she saw a trace of a smirk in her innocent smile. How did she know? Sure, she'd seemed to suspect them in high school, but that was two years ago, how did she know that picture would still affect her like this? She needed to say something, she needed to act normal, but she was paralyzed.

Their waitress came over to their table.

"Can I interest you in dessert?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Lucille replied. "My daughter probably wants some, though."

"No, I don't," Lindsay said, a little too forcefully. The waitress looked surprised. "I mean, no thank you," Lindsay added, embarrassed. She glanced at her mother again, who was still looking at her with that triumphant smile.


	24. Chapter 24

_October, 1989_

Lindsay stormed into her apartment, closing the door behind her a little too forcefully. _Don't think about it, just don't think about it,_ she told herself as she took off her shoes, but she couldn't push it out of her mind, she'd been reeling from that dinner the whole drive home. She was such an idiot, she'd acted exactly how her mother had wanted her to. She should have pretended it meant nothing to her, said something about how happy she was for him, or even that she thought he was rushing into it. Anything but just sitting there stunned, the pain so clear on her face.

It was just so unexpected, having that picture sprung on her like that, seeing her for the first time, and all in front of her mother, for whom this was clearly just another move in their little game. How had she known it would affect her like that? Was it really so obvious that she still had feelings for him? _It makes sense that he would choose her…_ Of course it did, she wasn't his sister, and he'd knocked her up and felt like he had an obligation to her now, that was all it was. He barely knew her, his relationship with Tracey was nothing compared to what they had.

A sob escaped her throat and her eyes filled with tears. She'd thought she was over him, or at least almost there. She didn't think about him as often as she used to, and she didn't miss him when he was gone. But when he'd told her he was getting married she'd realized that this whole time she'd just been waiting for him to change his mind. Someday he would realize that she was the only one for him just like he was the only one for her, and then he'd come back to her. She was so pathetic, feeling this way about her own brother. She didn't want to, she knew it was gross and _impossible_ , but whenever she thought about how it had been before she knew she couldn't let this go. She'd thought he felt the same way. It had always been the two of them, separate from everyone else. She knew he felt the same way, he _had_ to.

She remembered what he'd said, _this doesn't even affect you_ , and his silence when she'd gotten a little too emotional about that. It was infuriating, him acting like she was the crazy one, when he felt the same way about her. He would've reacted the same way if she'd told him she was getting married out of the blue.

She froze, her heart beating quickly. She imagined calling him and telling him, _it's good news…_ And seeing the look on her mother's face…

She quickly crossed the room and picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" she heard Tobias say.

"Hi, it's Lindsay," she said, her voice a little shaky.

"Oh, hi, Lindsay," he said, and he sounded so happy that it was her.

"I, uh, I need to ask you something," she said.

"What is it?"

She laughed breathlessly. "Do you want to get married?"


	25. Chapter 25

_October, 1989_

Michael watched Tracey absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger, thinking about how surreal it felt to be curled up on his bed with his pregnant fiancée, looking through a brochure for family housing together. His eyes traveled up to her stomach, already noticeably rounder, to her newly full breasts. He wondered hopefully if she would spend the night here with him.

"So it looks like the West Village Apartments are cheaper," Tracey said, snapping him out of his trance. He returned his attention to the brochure with difficulty.

"Yeah, let's do those," he agreed. "Okay, two bed, one bath, that's eight hundred thirty-five a month." Tracey sucked in a breath. "It's okay, my parents are going to help us pay for it," Michael reminded her.

"Yeah… Are you sure it's okay to be taking so much from them?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he said. "My mom offered, I didn't even ask her. And we'll pay them back as soon as we can."

"Okay," she said, though she didn't look entirely reassured.

The truth was that he was also a little embarrassed about asking for so much. With much difficulty his mother had persuaded his father to pay for the apartment, but George Sr. was furious at Michael for not consulting with him before proposing. He was also vehemently against the marriage and Michael's commitment to helping raise the baby, as he was worried it would interfere with his education and career. But Michael didn't want Tracey to worry so he was trying to hide his own qualms.

"Let's look at the pictures," he said in an effort to change the subject. "Let's see, West Village…here they are."

"Oh, those look nice!" Tracey said.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, though they didn't look particularly special to him.

"Oh, look at this, they have a child care program." She took the brochure from him and read. "I can't tell if it's free or not… Oh, it looks like we get a subsidy since we're both in school… With the subsidy it ranges from zero to ten dollars a day, depending on family size and income. It goes from 7:45 to 5:30. That would be great."

"Yeah," Michael said. "We should try not use that too much, though, we can arrange our class schedules so at least one of us is home most of the time."

"Yeah…" Tracey said, though she didn't seem to be listening, still reading the brochure. "It says they need to be at least three months old. Well, that's perfect, 'cause the baby's going to be born in June, so we can take the summer off and then do the child care when Fall term starts."

"Yeah. We shouldn't do the whole day, though," he said. He'd promised himself that his child wouldn't be raised by nannies like he and his siblings had been.

"It's not the whole day, it's 7:45 to 5:30."

"That's still a long time."

"This program looks really good. And even if we're home, we'll be busy studying, so this would probably be better."

"Yeah…" Michael said uneasily. "Well, we can figure this out later, we've got almost a year until then."

"Okay," Tracey said. She glanced at the clock on the desk. "Oh no, it's 11:30 already," she said, sitting up. "I'd better go."

"Wait, stay a little longer," Michael said. It was a Friday night and all they'd done was look at brochures, and she was looking especially lovely tonight.

She smiled. "Sorry, I have work in the morning. I need to get some sleep while I can."

"Sleep here," he said, running his hand down her arm.

"Mm, I'd love to," she sighed. "Your roommate will probably be back soon, though."

Michael groaned. "Ugh. Okay, good night."

"Don't worry. In two months we'll be living together and this won't be a problem."

Michael smiled. "Can't wait."

"Me neither," she said, and kissed him. "Good night."

"Good night."

She slid off the bed, picked her backpack up from the floor, and slung it onto her back. "Do you want to meet me after work tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great! See you then."

"Yeah, see you."

He watched her leave as the door swung shut behind her, then lay back on the bed and sighed in disappointment. Tracey's ability to handle her packed schedule was one of the things he loved about her, but it could be a little frustrating at times.

The phone rang on his desk. He got up and slid off the bed and picked it up, wondering who was calling him so late.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey, it's Lindsay."

"Oh, Lindsay, hi," he said, surprised. They hadn't spoken since he'd told her he was getting married a month ago. "How are you?" he asked, a little apprehensively.

"Great," she said with unnerving enthusiasm. "I have some news to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I'm getting married."

Michael blinked. "What?" he said.

"I'm getting married! His name's Tobias, he's a med student at UCLA."

"Wait, what are you—is this a joke?" Michael stammered.

"Nope, not a joke."

"But—I didn't even know you were dating anyone!" he said. This had to be a joke, it didn't make any sense.

"Well, I never told you about it, but we've been dating for a while."

"You're actually serious about this, you're really getting married."

"Yes, how much clearer can I be?"

" _Why?"_

"Uh, because we want to?" she laughed.

"You want to—You're twenty years old, why would you get married right now?" he choked.

She laughed viciously. "This coming from you?"

"That's different, she's pregnant." His heart skipped a beat. "You aren't pregnant, are you?"

"Oh, no," Lindsay said, sounding caught off guard.

"Then why are you doing this?" he said, though he was simultaneously breathing an inner sigh of relief.

"Because I love him, I don't need any other reason!"

"Wha—Who the hell even is this guy?"

"Well, like I said, he's a med student at UCLA, he's training to be a therapist slash analyst. He's really smart, ambitious, socially conscious. He's amazing, I think you'll really like him."

Michael was speechless for a second. This was insane, she couldn't get married, this was _Lindsay_. "Well—Jesus, how long have you even known him?" he stammered.

"Since July."

" _July?"_

"Well, how long have you known Tracey?"

"Longer than that! This is crazy, why are you rushing into this?"

"Because we love each other, there's no point in waiting!"

"No point in waiting? Lindsay, just think about this!"

"There's nothing to think about!"

"This is insane!"

"Honestly, Michael, you're starting to sound a little jealous."

Michael stopped, stunned. "Is that what this is about?" he said, his voice shaking with anger. "You're trying to make me jealous?"

"No, I'm just saying that's what it sounds like—"

"That is sick, Lindsay, that is fucked up."

"How self-centered are you? You think I would marry someone just to—"

"Damn it, Lindsay, why can't you let this go?! I'm your brother for god's sake!"

"That's not what this is about!"

"One month after I tell you?! It's LSU all over again! I tell you I'm dating someone and you move across the country, I tell you I'm getting married and you call me a month later and tell me you're getting married too! Am I supposed to be alone for the rest of my life because you've got some weird crush on me?!"

The silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Fuck you," she said.

Michael blinked, taken aback by the hatred in her voice. He sighed, realizing he'd gone too far. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said. She didn't say anything. "Lindsay? Lindsay, are you there?" he said, but there was still no response. "Shit!" he said, slamming the receiver down.


	26. Chapter 26

_October, 1989_

Lindsay sat at the counter, still reeling from the phone call. She buried her face in her hands. Some weird crush.

She slammed her fist down on the counter, then cried out in pain. She massaged her hand, tears springing to her eyes. It wasn't supposed to go like that. It was supposed to be her revenge, her chance to show him what it felt like. It had worked at first, it had been very satisfying to hear how panicked he was, proof that he still felt something for her. But she'd gone too far, she'd been too obvious. She thought about what she'd said to him, _fuck you_. It had been the only thing she could think to say, she'd been so shocked and hurt that he would say something like that to her and she'd wanted to say something that would hurt him back. She hoped it had worked.

He'd been so cruel, yelling at her like that, saying those things. Was that really how he saw it? Had he actually convinced himself that it was completely one-sided, that it was just some pathetic, annoying infatuation she had with him that she refused to let go? It was so unfair, he'd loved her, he'd kissed her too, he'd almost had sex with her. He'd only said that to hurt her, he still had feelings for her, she knew he did. How had things gotten like this? Now she looked more pathetic than ever, LSU all over again. She _was_ pathetic. And he was still getting married.

And so was she. For the first time that night she started to panic. She couldn't get married, she was twenty years old, she barely even knew him. What had she been thinking? But she couldn't go back on it now, she'd already told Michael, and Tobias for that matter. She buried her face in her hands again and groaned. She couldn't deal with this right now, she'd been through so much tonight. She needed to sleep, to escape from this whole mess for a little while. She would figure it all out in the morning.

She got up and stumbled to her bedroom. The floor was strewn with clothes and boxes and magazines. Normally she didn't mind the messiness enough to put in the effort to clean it, but at the moment it felt suffocating. She stripped to her underwear and collapsed onto the bed, then turned off the lamp and rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping she would fall asleep quickly.

The phone rang. She cringed. It had to be Michael, who else would be calling her right now? She let it ring. She didn't want to talk to him right now, she didn't want to talk to him ever again. She listened as the call went to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me," she heard him say. "I'm sorry about what I said, it was over the line. Just, please call me back."

The phone clicked off. She lay in the darkness for a moment, trying to stifle the emotions swirling around in her exhausted brain, then rolled over and closed her eyes again.


	27. Chapter 27

_October, 1989_

Lindsay glanced over at Tobias sitting on the couch next to her as they watched _Dallas_ on the TV in her apartment. She was feeling a little disappointed in the show, which had gone downhill in the last few years, and even more disappointed in Tobias, who had apparently failed to notice the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra under her thin blouse or the way she'd 'accidentally' let the top button come undone. She'd invited him over to watch the show with her, hoping it would give her an opportunity to finally get physical with him. She was feeling a little frustrated. At first she'd thought he was just trying to be a gentleman, but he'd deftly avoided so many of her advances that she was starting to wonder if something else was going on. It certainly seemed overdue now that they were going to get married in four months. (She'd chosen the earliest date for the wedding she thought she could pull off, not wanting Michael to be married while she wasn't for any longer than necessary.)

"Yeah, it's not as good as it used to be," she said when the credits started playing. "I'll have to show you some of the earlier seasons sometime."

"Okay," he said.

She picked up the remote and turned off the TV. She hesitated, then scooted closer to him and leaned against him. He cringed a little. She ignored this.

"Can you believe we're going to be married in just four months?" she sighed.

"Yes, it certainly is, uh, unbelievable," he said, sounding nervous.

She sat up and kissed him. He jumped a little but kissed her back. She tried not to cringe—he wasn't the best kisser. She was hoping he would be a little better at other things. But she pretended to be into it and climbed on top of him.

"I love you," she sighed between kisses. She hoped it sounded convincing. She certainly enjoyed spending time with him, but she didn't know if she loved him yet. But she was sure she would someday, and it seemed like something she should say considering that they were engaged.

"I love you, too," he said, smiling up at her. She smiled back and kissed him again, feeling a little reassured. She slid her hands seductively down his body and took off his belt and started unbuttoning his pants. He recoiled as she did, but she ignored this too and pulled them off. To her surprise she saw that he was wearing denim cut-offs underneath.

"Um, why are you wearing cut-offs under your pants?" she laughed, confused.

"Oh, it's just…a thing," he mumbled. Lindsay stared at him. She had no idea what to make of this.

"Um…okay?" she said, laughing nervously, then proceeded to take those off too. Tobias froze up.

"I think we should wait until after the wedding," he said suddenly, pushing her hands away and sitting up.

"What?" Lindsay said, taken aback.

"Yes, I-I think it would be best," he stammered, quickly buttoning the cut-offs back up and pulling his pants back on over them.

"Why?" she said, climbing off of him and sitting back down on the couch.

"Uh, I'm just, uh, a traditional kind of guy…"

"Wait, you mean, you're a virgin?" she said, surprised. He was twenty-five years old.

"Yes…" he said, looking embarrassed.

"Oh," she said, feeling extremely embarrassed herself. "Well, I mean, I'm not…"

"That's fine," he said quickly. "I just think it would be best if we waited until after the wedding. Then it will be special."

"Uh, okay," Lindsay said, mainly just so this awkward exchange would be over.

"Thanks," Tobias said. He picked the remote up off the coffee table and turned the TV back on. "Let's see what else is on TV," he said, flipping rapidly through the channels.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay," she said, still feeling extremely confused, as well as a little hurt. She stared ahead at the TV screen. It wasn't because of her, of course he was attracted to her, she was way out of his league. He just wanted to wait until marriage, but _why?_ He'd never mentioned being religious or anything like that. And what was with those cut-offs? She also wasn't too thrilled about marrying someone with zero experience in that department. But he would have plenty of time to practice, and that wasn't why she was marrying him anyway. It would all be okay, it had to be.


	28. Chapter 28

_December, 1989_

Michael looked out the window at the familiar sights around him as he drove, growing increasingly nervous the closer he got to home. He glanced over at Tracey in the passenger's seat. She was looking out the window with interest—it was her first time in Southern California. The wedding, which was going to take place in Newport Beach, was in a week and they were going to stay with his parents until then. In a few minutes they would arrive and Tracey would meet his family for the first time. He was currently debating how thoroughly he should warn her about them. She had some idea that they weren't the most pleasant people in the world, but he hadn't told her the full extent of it. He didn't want to go overboard and give her a bad impression in case they surprised him with good behavior, but he also didn't want her to go in unprepared.

"Wow, so this is Newport Beach," Tracey said, looking out the window.

"Yeah, we'll be there soon."

"Oh, I didn't know you lived near Newport Beach."

"I _am_ from Newport Beach."

"What?" she said, looking over at him. "You told me you were from Los Angeles!"

"Oh," Michael laughed sheepishly. "I forgot that I told you that. I didn't want you think I was some spoiled rich kid on our first date."

Tracey laughed. "You're so funny. Wow, Newport Beach. Okay."

Michael hesitated, still trying to figure out how much he should tell her. He decided it was probably best to give her a complete picture. Even if by some miracle they acted like a normal family today there was no way it would last forever.

"So I need to warn you about my family," he said.

Tracey laughed. "Warn me?"

"Yes," Michael said seriously.

"Don't worry, I spent eighteen years with my mother, I'm prepared for anything."

"You really can't be too prepared when it comes to my family."

She laughed again. "Okay, what do you want to warn me about?"

"How about I just go over each of them and tell you what to expect?"

"Oh, wow. Okay, go ahead."

"Okay. Well, first there's my dad. He's a scumbag, in every way. He's also not very happy about me getting married so young, so he might be kind of rude to you. Just don't take it personally. Then there's my mother. She can be very critical, especially with women, so again, don't take it personally. That's a good general rule with my family."

Tracey laughed. "Well, I wasn't nervous before…"

"I'm not done yet. Then there's Gob, my older brother. He'll probably hit on you, he's hit on every girlfriend I've had that I couldn't keep from meeting him. He's just really competitive. And Buster, my younger brother… Buster's fine, he's just…kind of weird."

"Weird how?"

"Uh… You'll see. And Lindsay, my sister. Lindsay's not so bad—relatively speaking, of course. Except…we kind of had a fight last time we talked, and she hasn't returned any of my calls since then, so I don't really know what to expect."

"What was it about?" she said curiously.

"Uh…" he said uneasily. "It's kind of complicated. It doesn't really matter, the point is that she might still be mad at me, and she might be kind of rude to you, too, so just be prepared for that."

"Um, okay?" Tracey laughed, clearly confused.

Michael hesitated. "Her fiancé will be there, too. I haven't met him yet."

"Wait, she's getting married too?"

"Yeah," Michael said, his anxiety level rising exponentially. "I guess I didn't tell you about that."

"Yeah, you didn't!"

"Sorry, it just never came up," he said, wishing he'd told her. Now it would look even worse.

"No, it's fine, I'm just surprised. Wow, so close together."

"Yeah," Michael said faintly. It was bound to look weird, twin siblings getting married two months apart. Didn't Lindsay realize that?

"When is the wedding?" Tracey asked.

"February. I guess we should probably go…"

"Well, yeah, she's your sister!"

"Yeah…" he said reluctantly. The thought of watching her get married made him feel sick.

"You don't seem too happy about it," Tracey said.

"What? Oh. Yeah, well, I just think she's rushing into it. She can be kind of impulsive."

"Hm," Tracey said. "Wow, two weddings in one family."

"Yeah," Michael said grimly. He pulled onto his old street.

"Is this your street?" Tracey asked.

"Oh, yeah," Michael said, grateful that the conversation had turned away from Lindsay.

"Wow, you're right by the water," she said, looking out the window. "These houses must cost a fortune. Does yours look like this?"

"That's it over there," Michael said, pointing.

"Oh my _god_ ," she laughed. Michael laughed embarrassedly and pulled into the driveway and parked. He looked at the time. They were half an hour earlier than they'd said they would be—he and Tracey were both punctual to a fault. He hoped the lack of preparation wouldn't make his family even more intolerable.

"Okay, are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, I am fully prepared."

"Good," he laughed as they got out of the car. "Again, you just need to remember that they're like this with everybody, it's not about you."

"Why do you assume they're not going to like me?" she laughed.

"I'm just trying to prepare for the worst. They _should_ like you, because you're amazing, but they're all crazy so you never know."

He rang the doorbell and waited apprehensively. He heard footsteps inside and then the door opened.

"Michael!" he heard Gob say, and before he knew what was happening he was being pulled into a tight hug.

"Hey, Gob," Michael said nervously, trying to extricate himself from his clutches. Thankfully Gob pulled away on his own.

"And you must be Tracey," he said, offering his hand.

"Yes, it's nice to meet you," Tracey said, shaking it.

"Likewise," he said, holding her hand a little too long. Tracey's smile faltered. But then he let go and walked into the house. "Mom and Dad are out golfing with some potential investors, but they should be back soon," he said. "Buster's with them, too."

Michael's face grew warm with embarrassment. Golfing with potential investors. Could they sound any more pretentious? "Okay, well, we'll just go get our bags," he said, uneasy about spending anymore one-on-one time with Gob.

"Come on, you can get those later!" Gob said. "I haven't seen you since June, and you've barely introduced me to your lovely bride."

"Okay," Michael said reluctantly, feeling a flicker of annoyance at hearing him call Tracey 'lovely.' He and Tracey sat down on the couch. Gob sprawled out across the other one.

"So when's the baby due?" he asked, looking pointedly at Tracey's stomach in a way that bothered Michael.

"June," Tracey said politely, though she looked a little nervous.

"Wow, that's exciting," Gob said.

"Yes, very exciting," Michael said quickly, unable to keep the familiar competitive spirit from flaring up in him when he saw Gob looking at his fiancée like that. "What about you, how are you doing? I heard you just moved out of here?"

"Uh, yeah," Gob said, clearly annoyed that he'd brought up the fact that he'd been living with his parents until recently. "Yes, I've got a great new place now."

"Really?" Michael said skeptically. "Does being a magician pay well, then?"

"Well, no, not really, but it's not about the money, it's about the love of the craft." He smiled flirtatiously at Tracey. "Do you like magic?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," she said, caught off guard. He grinned.

"I thought you would. No, I've been supplementing my income from magic by stripping."

"Stripping?" Michael repeated, confused.

"Yeah, you know, like a male stripper. I found this agency called the Hot Cops. It's not a bad job."

Michael stared at him. Tracey looked similarly stunned.

"You're joking, right?" Michael said.

"No, I started working there a few months ago."

" _Why?"_ Michael said, baffled.

"Hey, the pay isn't bad, I can meet women, I even get a chance to practice my showmanship for my magic act. Oh, speaking of which, I was thinking I'd do a show at the wedding."

"Oh," Michael said. "I don't know, Gob…"

"It's going to be amazing. I already bought this new illusion called the Flames of Passion, it cost, like, five grand."

"Oh, wow. You shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," Tracey said. Michael looked over at her. "Yeah, that sounds fun," she said, giving Michael a nudge.

"Ugh… Okay," he sighed reluctantly.

"Great!" Gob said excitedly. "I knew you picked a good one, Mikey."

"Alright, Gob…"

"And you know," he said, leering at Tracey. "If you're doing a bachelorette party or anything like that, I would be happy to provide some entertainment there as well…"

Tracey's eyes widened.

"Hey!" Michael said angrily. Just then the door opened and his parents came in, Buster trailing behind them.

"Oh, you're here already!" Lucille said.

"Hey, Mom," Michael said, grateful for the diversion. He and Tracey stood up and went over to them. _What is wrong with you?_ Michael mouthed at Gob when Tracey wasn't looking.

"You must be Tracey," Lucille said, smiling at her.

"Yes, it's so nice to meet you," Tracey said, shaking her hand. She offered her hand to George Sr.

"Hm," he said without taking it, then walked out of the room.

"Dad!" Michael said angrily.

"Now, George," Lucille said, but he was already walking up the stairs. Tracey stood there awkwardly, not seeming to know what to do. Lucille smiled at her.

"Well, can I get you something to drink?" she asked. Michael felt a rush of gratitude toward her.

"Uh, yeah, some water would be nice. Thank you," Tracey said, still looking a little stunned.

"No problem," Lucille said. They went to the kitchen. "Lindsay and her fiancé will be here soon," she said as she poured the drinks. Michael and Tracey sat at the kitchen table. "I'll have Rosa bring your bags in. Rosa!" she screeched. "Bring their bags in from the car!"

"Yes, Mrs. Bluth," Rosa called back from upstairs. Tracey looked at Michael, eyebrows raised. He laughed embarrassedly. Lucille brought their waters over to the table, along with a glass of wine for herself.

"Now where did Buster get off to?" she said. "Buster?!"

"Yes?" Buster said, coming out from behind the door.

"What are you doing there?" Lucille said. "Come sit with us, introduce yourself to Tracey."

He joined them at the table. "I'm Buster," he said shyly, not meeting her eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," Tracey said politely, though she looked a little disconcerted by his appearance from behind the door.

"Oh, is that your wedding dress?" Lucille said as Rosa walked by the kitchen with a garment bag.

"Oh, yes, that's it," Tracey said.

"I want to see it," she said excitedly. "Rosa, bring that in here!" Rosa brought the dress in. Lucille stood up and took it from her and unzipped the bag. "Oh…" she said with distaste when she saw the dress. "How much did you pay for this?"

"Um, two hundred fifty dollars?" Tracey said nervously.

"For a _wedding dress_?"

"Mom—"

"I'll take you shopping tomorrow, we'll get you a new one," Lucille said.

"Oh!" Tracey said, surprised. "That's really not necessary."

"No, it's necessary. Of course on such short notice we'll have to get something off the rack… And finding one that fits might be a challenge, dear lord, a maternity wedding dress… But I'm sure we can do better than this."

"Mom, really—"

"It's fine," Tracey said. "Thank you, that's very generous of you."

"Happy to help," Lucille said, handing the dress back to Rosa and sitting down. "I can't have my daughter-in-law wearing rags on her wedding day. So, tell me more about yourself. Where are you from?"

"Alturas," Tracey replied. "It's in Northeastern California."

"Are there towns there?" Lucille said with genuine astonishment.

"Um, not very many," Tracey laughed.

"Hm," Lucille said without laughing, apparently thinking over this new information. "What does your father do?"

"Oh, I just lived with my mom."

"What happened to your father, is he dead?"

"Uh, no, he's just…not in the picture," Tracey said, looking flustered.

"Hm," Lucille said again, raising her eyebrows. Tracey flushed. "Well, what does your mother do?"

"She's a waitress."

"A _waitress_?" Lucille said, her jaw dropping.

"Yes," Tracey said, her face turning even redder. She was starting to look angry now.

"Well, that explains the dress," Lucille muttered.

"Mom!" Michael said angrily.

"Dear lord," she said to herself, ignoring him. "Is she going to be at the wedding?"

"No," Tracey snapped. "So don't worry, it should be a waitress-free event."

Lucille looked at her in surprise. Michael couldn't help but smile. Tracey blushed.

"Um, excuse me," she said, getting up. "Morning sickness." She hurried out of the room. Lucille chuckled and turned to Michael.

"I like her," she said.

Michael sighed exasperatedly and got up and left the kitchen as well. He found Tracey in the hallway.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I just said that to get out of there. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten mad at her like that."

"No, it was great," Michael laughed. "She needs people to stand up to her more. Anyway, she likes you."

"She does?" Tracey said incredulously.

"Yeah, she just said so."

"I did not get that impression," she said faintly.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "Like I said, she's like that with everyone. And my dad's just mad at me, he'll get over it."

"It's okay," she said, smiling reassuringly. "I'm sure I'll get used to them."

"You won't have to. I don't visit them much anyway, and we'll make sure to live far, far away. We just have to avoid them as much as we can over the next week and we'll be fine."

"Okay," she laughed. "Although it looks like I'm dress-shopping with your mother tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that, I'll talk to her."

"No, it's fine. It will be nice to have a bigger budget anyway."

"Well, whatever you choose I'm sure you'll look beautiful."

"Aww," she laughed, and kissed him. He kissed her back, running his hand down her arm, a little thrill going through him as he realized that in a week they would be married.

"And you know," he said, pulling away slightly. "My mom used to be a waitress before she met my dad."

"Really?" Tracey laughed.

"Yeah, she doesn't like to talk about it but it's true, so feel free to throw that at her if she says anything else about your mother."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," she laughed, and kissed him again.


	29. Chapter 29

_December, 1989_

Lindsay turned onto her old street, another spasm of nervousness gripping her as she saw her parent's house. In just a few minutes she would see him again, and _her_. She had to act normal and show him she didn't care, but she wasn't sure she could. Just seeing a picture of Tracey had sent her spiraling.

"Well, I certainly hope I 'hit it off,' as they say, with your brother and his fiancée," Tobias said from the passenger seat. "I suppose when it comes to me and your family things can go only go up!" He laughed pathetically.

"You'll be fine," Lindsay snapped, wishing he was more impressive. Why had she thought this guy would make Michael jealous? She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.

She froze when she saw them. There they were in the window kissing. She swayed a little and looked away. For god's sake, the first time she saw them together and they were kissing? It was okay, it never used to bother her to see him with other girls, but that was before she'd fallen in love with him, and he was _marrying_ Tracey. Couldn't they have moved away from the window so she wouldn't have to see this?

"Who is that?" Tobias asked, sounding similarly stunned for some reason.

"Uh, that's Michael, and his fiancée," Lindsay said distractedly.

"Oh," Tobias said faintly.

Lindsay steeled herself. She could do this, she could get through the next hour or two without falling apart. She walked determinedly to the front door and opened it and went inside.

Michael jumped at the sound of the door opening and quickly pulled away from Tracey. "Lindsay," he said, startled.

"Hi, it's good to see you," Lindsay said, forcing a smile. She went over to him and quickly hugged him. She felt him tense in surprise, sending a flash of anger through her. It would have looked weird if they didn't hug. She realized that the last time she'd seen him was when she was hugging him goodbye before he went back to college in June, before she'd known Tracey even existed, or Tobias for that matter. She pulled away.

"Well, we've got a lot of introducing to do," she said.

"Oh, yeah, this is Tracey," Michael said quickly, still looking flustered and embarrassed that she'd walked in on them kissing. "And Lindsay," he said, waving a hand at Lindsay.

"Hi, Tracey, it's nice to meet you," Lindsay said, shaking her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Tracey said, smiling that same big smile she'd seen in the picture. Lindsay surreptitiously looked her over. She didn't look as good in person, or maybe she'd just gotten more fixed up for the picture. She was kind of pretty, in a very ordinary sort of way. Not someone you would notice in a crowd. Her head was too big for her skinny little body, which was especially ungainly with her slight baby bump. She certainly had no fashion sense, judging from that frumpy sweater. Michael could do better.

"And this is Tobias," Lindsay said, wishing he looked ten times better.

"Hi, I'm Michael, it's nice to meet you," Michael said, shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you as well," Tobias said, grinning at him. "Oh, you're nice and firm."

Michael blinked. "Uh," he said confusedly, then closed his mouth, seeming to decide he must have misheard. Lindsay blushed, seriously considering saying, 'He means your handshake,' but she decided it was probably best to just let this go unacknowledged.

"Sorry we're late," she said instead, hoping to provide a diversion. "We had to wait for Tobias's class to finish up. You know, he'll be graduating from the medical school at UCLA in June."

"Wow, congratulations," Tracey said.

"Yeah, congratulations," Michael said, looking slightly annoyed.

"And he just got accepted into a residency program at Mass General," she added for good measure.

"In Boston?" Michael said.

"Yep, we'll be moving there in the summer," she said, relishing the opportunity to throw this at him.

"Oh. I didn't know that," Michael said. Lindsay watched him, loving that he looked a little upset about this. She suddenly remembered walking on the beach with him on the Fourth of July two and a half years ago, telling him she was thinking about going to college in Boston and him convincing her not to. She realized she had ended up choosing a college far away from him anyway, and now she really was going to Boston. She quickly pushed the memory from her mind.

Lucille came into the room.

"Oh, you're here," she said sourly when she saw her and Tobias. She still hadn't forgiven Lindsay for getting engaged to him.

"Nice to see you, too," Lindsay said sarcastically.

"Well, dinner's ready," Lucille said. "We're having sausages."

"Excellent, I'd love a big sausage in my mouth right about now," Tobias said. "What about you, Michael?"

Michael's eyes widened. He turned to Lindsay. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he said to her. He took her arm without waiting for a response and pulled her quickly to the edge of the room. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No, he just has a misleading way of speaking," she said helplessly, mortified.

"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty misled."

"Why don't you get back to your fiancée?" she snapped. Michael looked at her in surprise, seeming to just realize that this was the first time they'd spoken one-on-one since that phone call.

"I've been trying to call you—" he started to say.

"Yeah, I know," she interrupted. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Uh—okay," he stammered.

"It's going to look weird if we talk any longer," she said. Michael looked over at Tracey, who was watching them curiously. She quickly looked away. Michael turned back to Lindsay, clearly alarmed.

"Go!" Lindsay said irritably. Michael hesitated, then went back to Tracey. Lindsay rolled her eyes and followed him, wishing she could disappear.


	30. Chapter 30

_December, 1989_

Lindsay sat impatiently in the pew. When was this damn thing going to start? It was time for the wedding ceremony and she just wanted to get it over with and go home. She'd had a little to drink beforehand to help her get through it, but she was starting to think she hadn't had nearly enough. And she still had to go the reception after this. For god's sake, it never ended.

The doors opened and everyone stood, Lindsay a little unsteadily from the alcohol. Tracey entered the church with George Sr., who was walking her down the aisle in place of her father. Michael had had a hard time convincing him to do it but he'd eventually agreed, seeming to finally realize that nothing he did would put a stop to this marriage. Lindsay was feeling the same way herself.

Michael walked out onto the altar. His face spread into a big smile when he saw Tracey. Lindsay felt a stab of pain. She really did look beautiful. But she would look like that at her own wedding in two months. She tried to distract herself with thoughts of her dress and hairstyle and décor, something that usually cheered her up, but right now it only sent waves of panic through her.

"Dearly beloved," the officiant began when Tracey joined Michael at the altar. "We are gathered here today in the presence of family, friends, and loved ones for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Tracey Anne Weber and Michael George Bluth."

 _It's okay, it's okay,_ Lindsay told herself as the officiant continued. She'd always known there was no chance of it, even that last summer before he left she'd known she would never be with him. She needed to move on, he was getting married for crying out loud. Of course, they might get divorced… _Don't,_ she told herself. She couldn't hope for that at his wedding. And even if they did, it wasn't like he would come back to her, he'd made that very clear two and a half years ago.

She looked back up at them and tried to be happy for him. He was her twin brother after all, and despite everything that had happened she still loved him more than anyone. She wanted him to be happy, didn't she? He really did seem to love this girl. She could see the excitement on his face now, he looked so thrilled to be marrying her. This was what he wanted, a normal wife and a normal family, but she couldn't feel happy for him, it wasn't right. Tracey barely knew him and she was just waltzing in and taking what was hers without even knowing it.

"Michael Bluth," the officiant said, snapping Lindsay out of her thoughts. "Do you take Tracey Weber to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony? Do you promise to love her, honor her, comfort her, and keep her for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her until death do you part?"

"I do," he said, smiling at Tracey.

"And do you, Tracey Weber, take Michael Bluth to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony? Do you promise to love him, honor him, comfort him, and keep him for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him until death do you part?"

"I do," she said, her voice a little shaky.

"The rings, please."

Tobias tentatively reached over and held Lindsay's hand. She stiffened. Normally this would have made her happy—the rarity of his romantic gestures was one of the things that irritated her about him—but right now she just wanted to pull her hand away. But she didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she gave him a quick smile and returned her attention to the front of the church.

"Please join hands and repeat after me. With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed."

"With this ring, as token of my love and affection, I thee wed," Michael said, and slid the ring onto Tracey's finger. The officiant turned to her.

"With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed."

"With this ring, as a token of my love and affection, I thee wed," she said, and slid the ring onto his finger. Lindsay's breath caught in her throat.

"By virtue of the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Michael smiled giddily at Tracey, and her own face broke into that big, wide smile of hers.

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant said, smiling as well.

Michael lifted Tracey's veil and kissed her. Lindsay looked down at her lap, then realized that everyone was clapping. She quickly joined in and forced herself to look back up at them. Did they have to kiss for so long? But then they pulled away from each other and turned to face to the room. Everyone stood as they walked back down the aisle. As Michael passed he caught Lindsay's eye and gave her a tentative smile. The sight broke her heart. She tried her best to give him a convincing smile in return, but she was worried it came off as more of a grimace. He looked like he appreciated it, though. Then he turned away and he and Tracey left the church.

"Okay, let's go," Lindsay said to Tobias as soon as they were out the door.


	31. Chapter 31

_December, 1989_

Michael scanned the reception tent for Lindsay while Tracey talked to her best friend from Alturas. They'd decided to hold the reception in his parents' backyard to save money, though money was clearly no longer an issue. His mother had taken over every aspect of the wedding planning and payed for it all herself, sparing no expense in transforming the backyard into an explosion of ribbons and floral arrangements. The reception had been going on for over an hour now but there was still no sign of Lindsay, and he was starting to feel worried.

"What's wrong?" Tracey asked him when her friend left.

"Nothing, just looking for my sister," he said. He spotted Tobias chatting with Buster and went over to him.

"Hey, Tobias, do you know where Lindsay is?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," Tobias said dramatically. "I dropped her off at her apartment after the ceremony and she said she would meet me here, but alas, there is still no sign of my bride-to-be."

"Uh, okay," Michael said. Was Lindsay really having sex with this guy? "Can you let me know if you see her?" he asked.

"Of course, anything for my future brother-in-law," he said enthusiastically.

"Okay, thanks," Michael said, and went back to Tracey.

"Does he know where she is?" she asked.

"No, apparently she said he would meet him here," he said uneasily.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she's fine," Tracey said. "She probably just got stuck in traffic."

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed, hoping that was all it was. He was momentarily distracted by Gob wheeling in a giant heart-shaped metal ring that would presumably be set on fire. "Oh god, that must be for the magic show," he groaned.

Tracey laughed. "Oh, wow."

"You didn't have to agree to that."

"I know, but he already spent so much money on it. I don't really care. To be honest I just want to get this reception over with so we can get to the hotel," she said, giving him a playful smile.

"Oh," Michael said, raising his eyebrows and laughing.

She smiled warmly at him. "I can't believe we're actually married now."

"Yeah, me neither," he agreed emphatically, remembering the unexpected shock he'd felt when the officiant had pronounced them husband and wife. It still didn't feel real to him. He had to keep reminding himself that he was someone's husband now. Part of him still felt like they were kids playing at being grown-ups.

"You know, a year ago we were seeing each other in the library," Tracey said. "I didn't even know your name."

"Oh my god, you're right," he said. He laughed weakly, thinking it was probably wasn't a good sign that he hadn't even known his wife for a full year yet. "Wow."

"Yeah…" she laughed. "I'm glad, though. For everything. I think it's all going to work out."

"Yeah, me too," he said, thinking that this was the least she could say on their wedding day, but at least she seemed to genuinely mean it. Over the last few days Tracey had seemed increasingly nervous about the wedding and he'd started to panic that his family had scared her off.

"Hey, is that Lindsay?" Tracey said, looking towards the gate. Michael followed her gaze. Sure enough, there was Lindsay walking unsteadily towards them. Michael felt a flash of panic. Was she drunk? She came over to them.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," she said, her words slurred. Tracey's eyes widened. "I lost tracka the time. You look _beautiful_ , Tracey," she said, grabbing Tracey's arm. "Michael's a lucky guy!" She laughed loudly, a note of sarcasm in her voice.

"Uh, thank you," Tracey said nervously. She looked questioningly at Michael, who was feeling more and more frantic by the second. What would people think, first she got engaged a month after him and now this?

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he said to Lindsay, quickly pulling her aside for the second time that week. "Are you drunk?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No," she said indignantly. "I mean, I…I had a little to drink before I came here…"

"Seems like more than a little. Jesus, Lindsay, what were you—it's my wedding!" he said frantically.

" _Relax_ , no one's gonna notice," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You should go home. Maybe Tobias can take you?"

"I don' needa go home, I'm _fine_!" she said loudly. Several people turned to look at them.

"Okay, okay," Michael said quickly, starting to panic. "Just, try to keep it together."

"Okay, _jeez_ ," she said, and stumbled off. Michael watched her in frustration for a moment, then returned to Tracey.

"Is she drunk?" Tracey asked.

"Ugh…yeah," Michael sighed.

"Why?"

"Uh, I don't know. I don't think there's a specific reason," he hedged.

"Did she…not want us to get married?"

"What?" he said, alarmed. "No, she's fine with it."

"It's okay, I know your dad's not happy about it."

"Really, she's fine with it," he said desperately.

"It's just, you said you two fought recently, and now this…"

"That was nothing, it was about something else."

"What was it?"

"Ugh… It's nothing, really."

"Then why won't you tell me what it is?" she said, laughing weakly.

"It's just, it's between us. It's not important."

She sighed huffily. "Okay, fine," she said. Michael felt another rush of anger towards Lindsay. Three hours into his marriage and she was already making him lie to his wife.

Just then a middle-aged woman in a bright pink dress came over to them.

"Congratulations!" she said.

"Oh, thank you," Tracey said, hugging her. "It's so good you see you."

"It's good to see you too, you look so beautiful," she said warmly. "Now can you introduce me to this handsome young man?"

Tracey laughed. "Michael, this is my Aunt Sandy."

"Nice to meet you," Michael said as he shook her hand, extremely grateful for the distraction. Tracey had told him about her aunt before, who was her closest living relative aside from her mother. From what he'd heard she was a bit flighty but a much more loving presence in Tracey's life than her mother was.

"It's so nice of you to come all this way," Tracey said.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Michael scanned the crowd for Lindsay while they continued talking. He saw her sitting alone in the corner of the tent, dejectedly picking at a piece of cake. Well, at least she was eating something. He clenched his teeth in annoyance. He knew she was upset, but it was his wedding. Couldn't she control herself enough to get through one day without making a scene?

His mother came over to them.

"We're getting everyone together for pictures now in the garden," she said.

"Okay," he said. He, Tracey, and Sandy went to the garden, where the photographer was waiting with Michael's father and brothers.

"We're going to start with immediate family members," the photographer explained. Lucille came over with Lindsay.

"Oh, honey," she said to her. "It's a wedding, not a bar."

Lindsay scowled at her.

The photographer arranged them all and took the pictures. Michael glanced over at Tracey between pictures. She really did look beautiful that day. _Tracey Bluth,_ he thought to himself. He liked that. She noticed him looking at her and smiled and held his hand.

"Okay, now for one with all the guests," the photographer said. "Everyone over here."

The guests all filtered over and the photographer arranged them. Michael looked over at Lindsay. She was arguing with Tobias about something, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. He prayed she wouldn't do anything more to draw attention to herself.

"Everyone smile," the photographer said. Michael wrapped his arm around Tracey's waist and smiled. Just as the photographer took the picture Lindsay stumbled forward and vomited on the grass.


	32. Chapter 32

_December, 1989_

Lindsay lay sprawled on the living room couch, trying desperately not to think about all the embarrassment and misery of that day. After she'd thrown up she'd gone inside to get cleaned up and decided to just stay there. Judging from the fact that she could hear 'The Final Countdown' playing outside, they'd finished the first dance and now Gob was doing his magic show. She didn't need to be there for either of those.

She wished she could sleep forever, just to forget about all of this, or go back in time, before he got married, before she got engaged, all the way back to that phone call the night he left and she would say something that would change his mind. There must have been something she could have done, because he'd loved her, she knew he had. God, he must think she was such a mess now. Everyone would, including Tracey. It was so unfair. All week she'd been perfectly polite to Tracey, she'd tried so hard to smother her emotions and behave, and now all Michael would remember was that she'd shown up drunk to his wedding. She hadn't meant to drink so much. She'd just wanted enough to get through the reception without falling apart and she'd gone a little too far. He shouldn't have gotten mad at her like that, didn't he understand how hard this was for her?

She started to cry. He was married now, she really was losing him forever. She couldn't go through the rest of her life like this, suffocated by this crushing emptiness. The only time she'd ever been happy was with him those months before he left. It was so unfair, Tracey hadn't even known him a full year, she didn't know Michael like she did, no one did. He loved her, he was pretending he didn't but he did. How could he have said that to her, some weird crush, like it was all one-sided? He would never have said something like that to her three years ago. She didn't deserve this, all she'd done was kiss him, and he'd kissed her too.

She was suddenly distracted by the sound of screaming outside. She sat up. _What the…?_ She wiped her eyes and got up and went to the back door, hearing cries of, _"Put her out! Put her out!"_ She stepped outside and saw Tracey standing under the tent, soaking wet and with the shoulder of her dress burned black and a good portion of her hair singed off. Michael was standing near her holding an empty vase.

"Are you okay?" he said frantically, rushing over to her. Tracey nodded weakly. She was shaking all over. Michael rounded on Gob, who was standing near them with the big heart-shaped ring. _"What is wrong with you?!"_ he shouted.

"It was an accident!" Gob stammered. Michael stared at him in disbelief, then turned to his parents and Buster, who were all the way on the opposite end of the tent. "And you!" he said furiously. "You _ran away_?!"

"Michael, calm down—" Lucille started to say.

"Calm down," he repeated incredulously. " _He set my wife on fire!_ I can't do this anymore, I'm just, I'm done, I'm done with this family!" He turned and saw Lindsay standing in the doorway. "You, too, Lindsay!" he said angrily. "I'm done with all of you, you're all insane!" He turned back to Tracey. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," she said, clearly traumatized. Michael looked at the burned areas of her hair.

"Oh god, you're burned," he said.

"I-I think it's just minor."

"Come on, let's go inside," he said, leading her out of the tent. Lindsay stepped aside to let them pass, still trying to piece together in her drunken state what had just happened, but she did register the glare that Michael threw at her as they passed.


	33. Chapter 33

_December, 1989_

Michael crouched on the floor of his and Tracey's bedroom, pulling clothes out of boxes and sorting them to put into the closet. The evening sky outside the window was deep blue with rainclouds and he could hear the raindrops on the leaves of the trees outside. He and Tracey had gotten back from their honeymoon two days ago and they were in the process of moving into their new apartment.

He looked up and saw Tracey though the crack in the bedroom door, sitting at the kitchen counter studying, her hair cut short as a result of the fire damage at the wedding. He smiled to himself. Earlier that day she'd had her mid-pregnancy ultrasound and they'd found out they were having a boy. Michael was over the moon. Over the last few months none of this had felt entirely real, but now it was really happening, they were married and in five months they were going have a baby, a little boy. He loved being married, and he loved that he was going to be a father. He and Tracey had only moved in together two days ago, nine counting the honeymoon, but it was already amazing. He loved falling asleep next to her every night, deciding together how to organize the apartment, seeing the wedding ring on his finger every time he looked at his left hand. He even liked buying groceries for the two of them and making sure to get her favorite foods. He could easily picture living with her like this for the rest of his life, and with their son, and maybe they'd even have more kids in the future. It was hard to believe he'd ever been worried at all.

He finished putting away the clothes from the box he'd been working on and looked at the phone on the nightstand. He should probably call Lindsay now. He'd spent half the day debating whether or not he should call her and tell her the news. He hadn't spoken to her since the wedding, when he'd told her and the rest of the family that he was done with them. He'd begrudgingly called his parents and apologized a few days later after realizing that he still needed them to pay for their apartment. He couldn't wait to graduate and get a job so he wouldn't be dependent on them anymore. But he hadn't talked to any of his siblings yet. He'd decided to forgive Buster and Gob. Buster hadn't been guilty of anything besides running away along with his parents, and as furious as he still was with Gob, it had been an accident. He would wait for Gob to apologize first, though.

Lindsay was an entirely different matter. At the time he'd been so angry at her, thinking about how instead of being supportive on one of the most important days of his life she'd decided to continue to make him pay for one stupid mistake he'd made more than two years ago. But once he'd had time to calm down he'd realized that she hadn't gotten drunk just to spite him. She'd probably just had a hard time getting through the wedding sober. It was hard to believe that she still wasn't over all that. It seemed so far away to him now. But as messed up as the whole thing was, he did feel a little guilty that she was still so broken up about it. He just wanted things to back to how they'd been before, before things had gotten so weird between them and all she'd been to him was his twin sister.

He got up and went to the phone and dialed her number. If she didn't find out from him she'd hear about it from their parents, and he didn't want her feelings to be hurt. He was married now and she would be soon. It was time to put the past behind them and be friends again.

"Hello?" he heard her say. She sounded tired.

"Hi, it's Michael," he said, a little nervously.

"Michael," she said, clearly surprised. "Hi, how are you?"

"Good," he said, smiling. "It's a boy."

"Oh!" she said. "Wow. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," he said. The pain in her voice was clear, but he appreciated that she was trying. "Hey, I'm sorry about what I said at the wedding," he said. "I was just upset about Gob, I didn't mean it."

"Don't worry about it, it's fine," she said quickly. He waited for her to apologize for her own behavior, but she didn't say anything more.

"So how are you?" he asked, shrugging it off.

"Great, great," she said unconvincingly. He felt bad for her, hearing her sound so strained.

"Getting ready for the wedding?" he asked, trying to keep the grimace out of his own voice.

"Yeah, we're really excited. Are you going to come down for it?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, thinking about how messed up things had gotten between them that there was even a question of whether or not he would attend her wedding.

"Thanks," she said quietly, sounding genuinely grateful. "And Tracey's invited, too, if she wants to come," she added.

"Great," Michael said. He'd assumed that was a given, but he appreciated it nonetheless. "Yeah, we'll both go."

"Okay. Good, it will be…nice to have her there." The effort it took her to say it was audible.

"Thanks, Lindsay," Michael said. He knew that wasn't something that would typically merit thanks, but he wanted her to know he was grateful that she was trying.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said, sounding caught off guard by his thank-you.

"So where are you going for the honeymoon?" he asked.

"Paris," she said excitedly.

" _Paris?"_

"Yeah, Dad got us tickets."

" _Dad_ got you tickets to Paris?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. He was so against me marrying Tobias that I didn't think he would contribute anything, but last week he gave me the tickets and a check for all the wedding expenses as a surprise."

"He didn't give me anything!" Michael said angrily. "I asked him and he gave me a whole lecture about how I need to be self-reliant!"

"Oh, I didn't know that. Sorry."

"No, it's not your fault, it's just… _Paris._ " He and Tracey had had a dirt cheap honeymoon in San Diego, and all on their own dime.

"I'm sorry, that's not right. I can talk to him if you want."

"No, it's done now. Thanks, though."

"No problem," she said. Michael smiled.

"Well, have fun in Paris," he said, laughing.

She laughed, too. "Thanks."


	34. Chapter 34

_February, 1990_

Michael climbed up the staircase of the wedding venue Lindsay and Tobias had rented for the evening, trying to find the bridal suite. It was almost time for the ceremony and he wanted to see Lindsay beforehand, having not had a chance to talk to her yet that day. He hadn't yet succeeded in wrapping his head around the fact that she was about to get married—he still thought the marriage was at least in part an attempt to get back at him, and even if it wasn't the idea of her getting married made him feel a little sick—but he thought he should try his best to be supportive nonetheless. He found the room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard Lindsay say.

He opened the door and stepped in. Lindsay turned to him from the vanity, where she was sitting touching up her makeup. She looked beautiful in her lacy white dress, her blonde hair swept up off her bare shoulders with a crown of white flowers running through it.

"Michael," she said when she saw him. She looked a little dazed. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, smiling and walking over to her and sitting in the chair next to hers. Should he tell her she looked beautiful? No, of course not. "I wanted to see you before the ceremony," he said instead.

"Oh," she said, smiling. She went back to redoing her lipstick. She looked very agitated.

"Hopefully your wedding will go a little more smoothly than mine," he joked. She cringed. He realized she might have thought he was talking about her throwing up. "With any luck you'll get through the night without catching on fire," he added to clarify.

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "Yeah, my wedding will definitely be magic-free."

"Well, at least one of us will get it right."

She laughed, though her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, a little," she said distractedly. "I'm excited, though, he's really great."

"I'm so happy for you," Michael said, hoping it sounded sincere. She smiled, though it was closer to a grimace. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her face becoming increasingly desperate. She looked down at her lap.

"I don't know, maybe this is a bad idea," she muttered.

"What?"

"It's not too late to call it off," she said softly, her voice breaking, and when she looked up at him her eyes were full of tears.

"Wha—yes, it is, the wedding's in half an hour!" he said, stunned.

"I know, it's just, I think it's a bad idea, I should have called it off months ago," she said, breathing quickly.

"Lindsay, you can't do that to him," Michael said, remembering his own panic over Tracey's nervousness in the days leading up to their wedding.

"You said I shouldn't marry him before!" she said, sounding almost angry.

"That was months ago, it's the day of the wedding!" he said. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, then started to cry. "Hey, it's okay," Michael said, startled. He awkwardly touched her arm. She breathed in shakily. He tried to suppress the sudden frustration he felt. Why couldn't she have come to this conclusion months ago? "He seems like a nice guy," he said reassuringly. "It's normal to have doubts."

"Did you?" she choked, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. Michael looked back at her, alarmed by the desperation in her face.

"Uh, I don't know," he stammered. "Not really." Her expression hardened. She turned away. "Don't worry, it will be fine," he said, feeling a little guilty at seeing her look so betrayed. She shook her head.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, her voice still shaky. "It's probably just nerves. Forget I said anything."

"Uh, okay," he said, surprised by the sudden change.

"Well, I'd better go," she said suddenly, picking up her white gloves from the desk and putting them on with surprising ferocity.

"Oh," Michael said, startled. "Okay."

He watched her stand up and straighten her dress, a little confused as to why she suddenly seemed so angry at him but guilty nonetheless. "Good luck," he said as she walked towards the door. She didn't turn around. "You look beautiful," he added. She laughed bitterly and left the room.


	35. Chapter 35

_February, 1990_

Lindsay studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror of their hotel room in Paris. She really did look amazing in her white satin slip and deep red lipstick. If he didn't want to fuck her tonight there really must be something wrong with him. She resumed curling her hair.

She'd tried once again to seduce Tobias on their wedding night three days earlier, and once again he'd refused, claiming he was tired and wanted to wait until they got to Paris. She'd pleaded quite a bit and even gotten a little angry, but he still wouldn't budge. She'd really started to worry then, trying to suppress the fear that her mother had been right, but she'd decided to wait and give it one more try before asking him point blank what was going on. The next night they were on the plane and the night after that she hadn't tried, feeling tired herself after travelling all through the previous night. But now they were three days into their marriage and he was out of excuses.

She finished curling her hair and sprayed on the expensive new perfume she'd bought earlier that day, then turned and inspected herself from various angles. Then she put on her heels, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Tobias was sitting on the bed watching TV. He didn't look away from it when she stepped into the room. She waited for a second, then cleared her throat impatiently. He glanced over at her. His eyes widened when he was what she was wearing. She hoped it was because of how hot she looked, though his expression looked more like one of panic than arousal.

"What do you think?" she said, trying to sound seductive.

"Um, you look very…nice," he stammered.

Lindsay tried to keep her hurt feelings from showing on her face. She looked amazing, what was the matter with him? But she ignored this and climbed onto the bed with him. She crawled seductively over to him and kissed him softly, then again with more intensity. He kissed her back, though the lack of enthusiasm was tangible. She picked up the remote as she kissed him and turned off the TV, feeling a little annoyed that he hadn't done it himself. _He's just nervous, he's nervous because it's his first time,_ she told herself. She started unbuttoning his pants. A blow job would calm him down.

"Wait, Lindsay, I'm kind of tired," he said abruptly.

"You said that last time," she said, and kissed him again.

"Well, you know. Jetlag."

"Come on," she said, trying to sound sexy, though she was starting to panic. "Je t'aime tellement."

"I don't speak French."

"It means I love you!" she snapped.

"Oh. I love you, too."

"Then what's the problem?" she pleaded. "You find me attractive, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, I just—I just don't want to tonight."

"Then when?" she said, starting to get upset. "You've been saying that for months! I mean, I get that you wanted to wait until marriage, but we're married now, so what's the problem?" Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away angrily.

"I'm sorry, it's—it's not about you."

She looked at him for a moment, then rolled off of him onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "Oh my god," she groaned, closing her eyes. She opened them and looked at Tobias. "Are you gay?" she said. Tobias's eyes widened.

"What—No, of course not! What makes you—why would you think that?" Lindsay gave him an incredulous look. He sighed. "No, I—I'm not gay, it's just…I'm a never-nude."

Lindsay looked at him blankly. "Is that exactly what it sounds like?"

"Um, yes, basically," he said uncomfortably. "It's a real psychological affliction, it affects dozens of people."

"So…what does that mean, you're afraid to get undressed?"

"Well, yes, that's the gist of it."

"Well, there's nothing to worry about. I'm your wife, you can be comfortable with me," she said, trying to be reassuring, though she was thinking that this was unbelievably weird.

"No, it's not about you, I can't even be undressed when I'm alone."

Lindsay stared at him, desperately hoping this was some kind of joke. Was this why he was wearing those cut-offs? "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she said.

"I don't know, I guess I was just worried about what you would think," he sighed.

"So, what was your plan?" she said, starting to get upset. "I mean… Is that why you wanted to wait until marriage, so I wouldn't find out until we were already married?"

"No!" he said, recoiling at her anger. "No, I just…I thought I could get over it by then."

"Well, can you?" she said harshly. Tobias seemed to crumple.

"Uh…no, I'm sorry, I don't think so."

Lindsay's eyes widened. Had she just married someone who couldn't have sex with her? "Well, there must be something you can do," she said desperately. "Have you tried therapy?"

"There aren't any therapists that treat it in the States, it's not recognized as a real condition there. But it's real, there are several countries in Europe that recognize it."

"This is crazy," she said weakly. She couldn't leave him days after their wedding, it would be humiliating, especially after she'd spent months defending her choice to her parents. "Well, can't you treat yourself? I mean, you _are_ training to be a therapist."

"No, it doesn't work like that."

"So, what, you're not even going to try?" she said, her voice becoming shrill.

"I _am_ trying, it's not as easy as it sounds! I know it's hard for someone without this condition to understand, but there isn't some simple solution—"

"How could you not tell me about this?! This is critical information!"

"I'm sorry, I really am," he said earnestly.

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure this out, there must be some therapist that can treat you."

"I don't know—"

"Yes! You're going to figure this out, okay?!" she said desperately. Tobias flinched. She almost felt sorry for him, but she was so upset she couldn't think of anything else. She suddenly felt pathetic in her lingerie. She got off the bed and stalked off to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Tobias asked.

"To change!" she snapped, her eyes filling with tears again. "And then I'm—then I'm going for a walk." She couldn't spend one more minute in this hotel room with him, she needed to get out and clear her head.

"But it's raining."

"Then I'll bring an umbrella."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

" _No!"_ she said angrily, slamming the bathroom door behind her.


	36. Chapter 36

_June, 1990_

Michael sat in the hospital bed with his arm around Tracey, staring in awe at their new baby in her arms.

"Look at him," Tracey said softly, smiling down at George Michael. George Michael reached up, grasping at her now shoulder-length hair with his tiny fist. Michael and Tracey both laughed. "Hi, baby," she whispered. She looked over at Michael, her eyes shining with tears. "Do you want to hold him now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. He carefully took George Michael from her, terrified of hurting him, he looked so fragile. He looked down at his little face and smiled when George Michael looked back up at him with wide eyes. _This is_ our _son_ , he thought. All theirs. He remembered when Tracey had first told him she was pregnant, how terrified he'd been. It seemed so ridiculous now. This was exactly what he wanted, all he could ever want. Just him and Tracey and their son, the three of them making up their own little family. Tracey leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her. He didn't think he'd ever felt closer to her than he did at that moment.

"We're going to make good parents, aren't we?" she murmured.

Michael smiled. "Yes."


	37. Chapter 37

_June, 1990_

Lindsay stared at Tobias across the table with wide eyes, astonished that he could inadvertently make eating a breadstick look that sexual. Tracey had had her baby two days earlier and Lindsay and Tobias were visiting her and Michael in Berkeley. Tonight Tobias had surprised Lindsay by taking her out on a date in San Francisco. She appreciated the gesture, which was unusual for him, but she was starting to wish they'd just stayed in the hotel. She still had no idea what to make of Tobias's embarrassing habit of saying and doing things in a decidedly homoerotic way. When they'd first started dating she'd thought it was some kind of weird joke, but it had quickly become clear that it was entirely unintentional.

"Hey, maybe don't eat that breadstick like that," she said, unable to take it anymore.

"Like what?"

"Like, you kind of lick it before you take a bite."

"Oh," he said, and proceeded to eat it in a different but somehow even more suggestive way.

"How about you just stop eating the breadsticks for now?" she said quickly.

"Um, okay," he laughed confusedly, putting the breadstick down.

"This is a nice place," she said in an effort to change the subject. "Can't wait for the food to arrive."

"Me, too."

"It was nice of you to take me out tonight," she said, smiling at him.

"Of course," he said, smiling back.

Lindsay looked down and twisted the edge of the tablecloth in her fingers, trying to decide if it was the right time to bring it up. Earlier that day she had decided that she was ready to have a baby. She knew it was a little soon, but the more she thought about it the more she wanted it. Seeing how happy Michael and Tracey were over the last few days had made her want that for herself. Things had been improving with Tobias. When they'd gotten back from the disastrous honeymoon she'd convinced him to see a therapist. He was right that there didn't seem to be any therapists in the United States that treated never-nudism specifically, but they had found one that specialized in phobias and it seemed to be helping a little. They'd had sex three times now. It hadn't exactly been satisfying—he pretty much just lay there, and the first two times he'd ended up crying. But she was optimistic that it would get better with time, and she appreciated that he was at least trying. She still felt a little like she'd been lied to, but she knew it was only because he'd been too embarrassed to tell her about his condition, and besides, sex wasn't everything. Less than a year ago she'd been so excited about their relationship. She wanted to get that feeling back, and she was hoping a baby would help.

"So," she said slowly, still not looking up from the tablecloth. "I've been thinking that I want to start trying for a baby." She looked cautiously up at him. The surprise was plain on his face.

"A baby?" he said.

"Yes," she said tentatively, discouraged by his reaction.

"With me?"

"Yes, with you," she laughed nervously. "What do you think?"

"Um…yes. Yes," he said. He seemed to genuinely mean it.

"Really?" she said excitedly.

"Sure, why not?" he said, smiling.

"Yeah. I mean, I know it's a little soon, but I don't really see any point in waiting."

"Yes, I agree."

"Great," she said, smiling widely. She hesitated, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "That _does_ mean we're going to have to have sex more often than we are right now."

"Not a problem," he said quickly.

"Really?" she said skeptically.

"Yes, I—I've been making a lot of progress, I think, it's not as bad as it used to be."

Lindsay couldn't help but feel a little stung. _Not as bad?_ It wasn't like he was anything special, far from it. But he was talking about being undressed, not the sex itself, though he didn't seem to be too interested in that either.

"Listen, I…I really appreciate how patient you've been with me," Tobias said uncomfortably. Her annoyance evaporated.

"Of course," she said, smiling at him. "I really do love you. I know we've had kind of a rocky start, but I think things are going to get better."

"Me, too," he said eagerly. "I really love you, too."

She smiled at him and reached across the table and held his hand.


	38. Chapter 38

_October, 1990_

Michael watched the red light hanging in the dusty purple evening sky above him, suddenly realizing just how nice it was to be sitting in the car alone in silence. But then the light changed to green and he had to continue on his way home.

His class had just gotten out early. He felt a little guilty about it but he actually wished it hadn't. The school year had started up again a month earlier and he and Tracey were both feeling stretched to the limit, to the point where it was kind of a relief to be in class. It had been hard enough taking care of a newborn baby in the summer, but now that they were both adding busy school schedules on top of that it was nearly impossible. Between staying up late almost every night studying and getting up every few hours to stop George Michael from crying, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt fully rested. He and Tracey had both been determined to take enough classes every term to graduate on time, but he was starting to think that was unrealistic.

Not that they weren't happy. They were both still over the moon about being parents, and he loved George Michael just as much as he had the day he was born. But he was looking forward to when he was a little older. This was starting to strain his relationship with Tracey. They were constantly getting in little arguments now. He was sure most of it was just stress, but there were some clear points of contention. The biggest thing was that Tracey was a little careless with George Michael. She was always getting distracted when she was supposed to be watching him and Michael was constantly having to intervene to keep him from falling off the bed or swallowing things he wasn't supposed to, so that he never really felt like he got a break. But whenever he suggested that she needed to make some changes she seemed to take it as a personal insult and he quickly retreated, so they hadn't been able to have any real discussion about it.

He arrived at their apartment building and parked the car, then got out and climbed up the stairs to their room. He sighed when he heard George Michael crying inside. He took out his key, opened the door, and stepped into the apartment and set his backpack down on the couch. George Michael was still crying at full volume. He reluctantly decided that he should probably go take over for Tracey, who had been there on her own for a while.

"Tracey?" he said as he went to the nursery, but when he stepped inside she wasn't there. He went over to George Michael's crib and picked him up.

"Hey, buddy," he said, rocking him. "Shh, shh… What's wrong? Are you hungry? Yeah, let's go find Mommy." He carried him out of the room. "Tracey?" he called again, but there was still no answer. He checked the bedroom, thinking she might be taking a nap and have somehow slept through George Michael's crying, but she wasn't in there either. Had she left George Michael here alone?

Thankfully, George Michael had stopped crying. "Aww, you were just lonely, weren't you?" Michael said affectionately, carrying him back to his room. He rocked him back and forth, watching him slowly drift back to sleep. Where the hell was Tracey?

Two minutes later he heard the front door open. He carefully put George Michael back in his crib and went to the kitchen, where Tracey was putting away groceries.

"Oh, you're home," she said when she saw him.

"Yeah, class got out early," he said, keeping his voice down so as not to wake up George Michael again. "Where were you?"

"We were out of milk so I ran to the store," she said.

"You just left George Michael here alone?"

"I was only gone for twenty minutes. He was asleep and I didn't want to take him with me and wake him up."

"You can't do that," Michael said incredulously.

"It was only twenty minutes!"

"It doesn't matter, you can't leave a baby home alone!"

"He's fine!"

"Yeah, luckily."

"Luckily? What do you think was going to happen?"

"I don't know, anything could have happened. What if there was a fire?"

"A fire? Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" he said angrily, picturing George Michael alone in the burning apartment with no way to get out.

"It was twenty minutes! And I wouldn't have had to go the store in the first place if you had remembered to buy milk!"

"I didn't know we were out of it because you didn't leave a note! That's why you always leave a note!"

"Oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Look, it's fine, just don't do it again, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever, fuck you," she said, pushing past him on her way out of the kitchen.

Michael watched her walk down the hallway, stunned. "Hey, Tracey," he said, following her.

"Please, just, I just need to sleep, I've had a long day," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Uh, yeah, okay," Michael said as she closed the bedroom door in his face. He stood in the hallway for a moment, shocked that she had said that to him. He should probably apologize when she woke up. But he hadn't done anything wrong, she was the one who had left their baby at home all by himself when Michael had trusted her to stay with him. He turned and walked angrily back to the living room. All he'd done was ask her not to do it again, why did she have to take it so personally?

He sat down on the couch where he'd left his backpack, thinking he should get started on the essay that was due the next morning. He groaned inwardly. He was probably going to be up late again tonight. But before he could finish unzipping his backpack he heard George Michael crying again.

"Fantastic," he muttered to himself, and got up and went back to the nursery.


	39. Chapter 39

_January, 1991_

Lindsay lay awake in the dark bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of the traffic outside sounded especially clear in the icy stillness of the room. She shivered. It was her first winter in Boston and she had not yet adjusted to the change in climate. She looked over at Tobias lying next to her, wondering if she could get him to have sex with her tonight, or at least cuddle a little. She felt so unwanted right now it was killing her. She listened to his breathing, trying to discern if he was still awake. She couldn't distinguish any slow, rhythmic breathing that would indicate that he was asleep.

"It's so cold," she said hopefully.

"Mm," he agreed. She waited for a few seconds.

"Really cold," she added.

"Yeah, it is," he mumbled. She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe you could cuddle with me and warm me up?" she suggested.

"Oh. Okay, sure," he said, and rolled over and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her.

"Much better," she said, smiling at him. She tentatively leaned in and kissed him, praying he wouldn't refuse tonight. She felt him cringe, but he kissed her back. She climbed on top of him and started to take off her top.

"Lindsay, please, not tonight," he said.

Lindsay stopped and looked down at him, trying to fight back the now-familiar pain of rejection. She rolled off of him and flopped back down onto the bed.

"How am I supposed to get pregnant if you won't have sex with me?" she muttered. They'd been trying for seven months now with no luck.

"I have been during your fertile window, but that was last week, we don't need to right now."

"You act like it's a chore!" she said. She sat up, her eyes filling with tears.

"Come on, Lindsay, you know it's difficult for me—"

"No, that's the problem!" she said, surprised by the sudden anger she felt. "I _didn't_ know until after we were married, because you didn't fucking tell me!"

"I've been trying, I've been going to therapy—"

"You shouldn't _need_ to go to therapy, do you even realize how lucky you are to be married to me?!"

"Oh, sure, you're every man's dream."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that I have spent the last year trying and trying to make you happy and nothing I do is ever good enough for you!"

"You're damn right it isn't!" she shrieked. Her words hung in the air. She could see that she'd really hurt him. Good, he had hurt her. She got off the bed and angrily stalked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he said.

"To the guest room, I'm sleeping there tonight. And every night, I don't want to sleep in the same room as you anymore!" she said angrily, slamming the door behind her.


	40. Chapter 40

_December, 1991_

Lindsay sat curled up on the couch, looking through a catalogue of baby clothes. It was her twenty-third birthday. Tobias was at the hospital, having unexpectedly been called for an overnight shift, so she was on her own. She was feeling a little down. Birthdays always put her in a bad mood. When she was a kid her parents had always gone all out on her birthday, and now that she was older she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed every year when it didn't measure up to that previous standard.

On top of that she was four months pregnant. After a year of trying and many nasty fights, they'd gone to a fertility specialist and learned that Tobias was infertile. With some considerable financial help from her parents that her mother still complained about every time she talked to her, they'd tried numerous fertility treatments and were eventually able to conceive. She was a little afraid to admit it even to herself, but the further she got in her pregnancy the more terrified she became. Not just of giving birth, though that fear was certainly weighing on her, but also of motherhood itself. They'd just found out they were having a girl two weeks earlier. She had thought finding out the gender would make her happy, especially since she'd been hoping for a girl, but instead it had sent her into a spiraling panic as she realized that this was really happening. She wasn't ready to be a mother, she didn't _want_ to be a mother. She didn't know what she'd been thinking. She'd decided she wanted a baby on a whim, and when they couldn't conceive it had become just one more thing Tobias couldn't give her, and she'd convinced herself that she desperately wanted a baby just to have another reason to be mad at him. But now she was actually pregnant and she didn't know what to do.

She set the catalogue down on the couch. Picking out cute little dresses for the baby was one of the few things that cheered her up, but it wasn't working tonight. She got up and turned up the thermostat, then went to the kitchen and started making herself a cup of coffee just to warm herself up. It was December and the apartment was deathly cold. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked out the window at the icy street below. The trees were glowing with Christmas lights and the streetlamps were wrapped in garlands and red ribbons. It was only five o'clock but the sky was already pitch black. She hated how early it got dark in the winters here.

The phone rang on the counter. She got up and answered it.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hi, Lindsay, it's Michael."

She cursed silently. She'd meant to call him earlier, wanting to be the first one to call him on their birthday for once, but she'd forgotten. "Hi, I was just going to call you," she said. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, you too!"

"Thanks."

"How are you?" he asked. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Yeah, sorry, I've been really busy," she said guiltily. It was true that she hadn't called him in months. "I'm doing well. I'm really excited about the baby."

"That's great," he said warmly. "When do you find out the gender?"

"Oh, we already did," she said, realizing she'd never gotten around to calling him. "It's a girl."

"Oh!" he said, surprised. "Wow, congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"How long have you known?"

"Uh, about two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"Yeah, sorry. I guess I should have called you," she said guiltily. She'd meant to call him when she found out but she'd kept putting it off. She was feeling so lost in her own life at the moment that she hated hearing about his, with his perfect wife and perfect son.

"Yeah," he laughed, clearly hurt. "Well, that's great! Were you hoping for a girl?"

"Yes, I'm really happy about it."

"Great," he said. "Wow, a little niece."

"Yeah," she said, her eyes filling with tears. She wiped them away, surprised by the sudden emotion. It was just that she could tell that he really meant it, that he genuinely hoped she was happy. _Just hormones,_ she told herself.

"Have you been thinking of names yet?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've narrowed it down to a few. I'm thinking something cute like Daisy or Maeby."

"Maybe? Like the word 'maybe?'"

"No, M-A-E-B-Y."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that's nice," he said unconvincingly.

"Yeah, I really like it," she said, thinking it was way better than 'George Michael.'

"I can't believe you didn't call me," Michael said after a pause.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she snapped, wishing he would just drop it.

"No, I'm not mad, it's just… We never talk anymore. I haven't seen you since George Michael was born, and even then I barely saw you."

"Yeah, well, I live on the other side of the country now," she said guiltily.

"I know, but we should try to keep in touch more. Maybe you could visit sometime? Or I could go there, either way."

"Uh, yeah, okay," she said, feeling another rush of emotion. "Yeah, I'll look at my calendar and find a date when I can come out and see you," she added impulsively. As soon as she said it she regretted it. She didn't want to see him, she really didn't want to see Tracey and George Michael. She just liked the earnestness in his voice, that he really missed her and wanted to see her.

"Great," Michael said eagerly. "Yeah, both of you are welcome any time."

"Oh, I don't know if Tobias can get out of work. I'll probably come on my own." The last thing she wanted was Tobias embarrassing her in front of Michael and his wife.

"Oh, okay. Well, we'd love to have you here."

"Thanks," she said, still not sure if this was what she wanted, but it was too late to change her mind now. "Yeah, I'll look at my calendar."

"Great. Thanks, Lindsay."

"Sure, it will be fun," she said, resting her head on her hand. She suddenly felt exhausted. "Listen, I have to go," she lied.

"Oh, okay. Well, happy birthday again. And congratulations!"

"Thanks, you too. I mean, happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"Well, bye," she said impatiently.

"Bye," he said, and hung up.


	41. Chapter 41

_February, 1992_

Lindsay glanced at her reflection in the dark window as she walked through the San Francisco airport, trailing her suitcase behind her. She tried to straighten her hair with her hand but it didn't do much good. She'd done some touch-up in the bathroom after she'd gotten off the plane but she still wasn't looking her best after traveling all day.

Michael would be there to pick her up. The thought of seeing him again sent waves of panic through her. She didn't know why, it was only Michael, but it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him. She hoped Tracey wouldn't be there with him. She pulled her suitcase onto the escalator and ran her hand through her hair again and straightened her shirt. She was six months pregnant now and really showing. She wished she'd come a little sooner, she didn't like looking so big.

"Lindsay!"

She turned around. There he was, smiling up at her and walking towards the bottom of the escalator. The emotion that hit her when she saw his face surprised her. _Get a grip,_ she told herself.

"Michael!" she said, smiling back. She reached the bottom of the escalator and hugged him. He kissed her cheek. She tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. He hadn't done that since high school.

"Wow, look at you," he said, looking at her pregnant belly, then reddened, looking embarrassed at having commented on her body.

"Yeah, I know," she laughed, a little amused.

"Here, I'll get that," he said, taking her suitcase from her. She felt a little fluttering sensation. It was the kind of small gentlemanly thing Tobias never did.

"How was your flight?" Michael asked as they walked through the airport.

"Good. Long."

They walked through the revolving doors and out into the cool night air. It was cold and windy and she could feel little flecks of rain hitting her face, but it felt good on her skin compared to the Boston winter. She glanced at Michael in the bright fluorescent lights of the airport. It was strange seeing him after all this time. He was still more familiar to her than anyone, but he did look a little different, a little older and more strained. She wondered if she looked different to him.

"It's good to see you," she said. He looked up at her and smiled. God, she loved that smile.

"It's good to see you, too," he said.


	42. Chapter 42

_February, 1992_

Michael glanced over at Lindsay sitting in the passenger seat as he drove home from the airport. She was leaning against the door and looking out the window, the city lights playing across her face. It was strange to be sitting in this car with her after being apart for so long. She'd always been such an important part of his life, but in the last few years she'd all but vanished from it.

"So how have you been doing?" he asked, partly just to break the awkward silence. "How do you like Boston?"

Lindsay looked over at him, the expression on her face almost alarmed. "It's good," she said. "Yeah, I really like it."

"Good. What about Tobias, how's he doing?"

"He's good, too. He's been really busy with his residency program at Mass General."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Michael said, fairly certain she was saying this to impress him, but he didn't mind. "You both must be excited about the baby. When's the due date?"

"May."

"Wow," he said. He waited for her to say something else, but she was looking out the window again, apparently done talking. He felt a flicker of annoyance. He couldn't do all the work.

"Do you have any music?" she asked after a long pause.

"Uh, yeah, there are some CD's in here," he said, gesturing towards the center compartment. She opened it and looked through the CD's.

"What's with all this country music?" she asked.

He laughed. "It's Tracey's. She's a big country fan."

"Oh, god," Lindsay laughed.

"It's not bad, actually, it grows on you."

She laughed again. "You need rescuing. Ah, here we go." She pulled a CD out and put it into the player and flipped through the tracks.

"Oh yeah, I like this one," Michael said, recognizing the introduction of 'Until the End of the World' by U2.

"Me too. This whole album is so good."

"Yeah, I think it's their best one yet," he agreed.

Lindsay turned up the volume. Michael smiled, remembering how she used to blast the music when they were driving to and from school. He was glad she was here. When he'd found out that she hadn't called him when she'd learned the gender of her baby he'd realized just how far they'd drifted apart. He didn't know anything about what was going on in her life anymore. He hadn't known she and Tobias were even trying to have a baby until she'd called him to tell him she was pregnant. He'd only heard about their infertility struggles later when his mother complained to him on the phone about how much the treatments had cost. He had no idea what to make of her marriage. He still couldn't figure out why she'd married Tobias, though he didn't have much to go on since he barely knew the guy. He couldn't tell if she was happy with him or not. There had been that strange episode before her wedding and she always seemed to shut down whenever Michael brought him up, but she'd gone to great lengths to have a baby with him, which would seem to indicate that she wanted to stay with him. He didn't even know if she'd changed in any way since high school. He certainly felt like he was a different person, but he'd talked to Lindsay so little over the last four and a half years that he had no idea if she'd changed at all.

"Do you remember going to see them?" Lindsay asked suddenly.

"U2?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, it was right after our sixteenth birthday, right?" he said, remembering how excited Lindsay had been when she'd found out they were playing in Long Beach two days after her sweet sixteen.

"Yeah, that's right," she said. "That was so fun."

Michael laughed. "Maybe for you. All I remember is that you met some guy there and ditched me."

She laughed. "Oh yeah."

"And then when Dad came to pick us up and found out I let you run off with some stranger he flipped out and grounded me. But not you."

"He did?"

"Yeah, you don't remember?"

"No. I remember the guy."

He laughed. "Figures."

"Aw, I'm sorry," she said, laughing as well.

Michael smiled. This was more like it used to be.

"We should go to a concert together again sometime, that was fun," Lindsay said.

"Sure," Michael said, surprised. "Maybe next time we visit each other."

"Yeah, we should. I promise I won't abandon you again," she teased.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he laughed. "Maybe I could go to Boston next time, and Tracey and George Michael, too. George Michael can meet his cousin."

"Oh yeah. Sure."

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Yeah, I'm going with Maeby."

"That's nice," Michael said. He didn't like the name much himself, but he was happy Lindsay was finally having a baby after trying for so long. He was a little apprehensive about her being a mother, as she'd never exactly been a responsible person, but he was hoping that would change when the baby was born. And it would be nice to be able to talk to her about parenthood, and for George Michael to have a cousin to play with. He hoped he and Lindsay would keep in touch more so that would be possible.

"Are you excited?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lindsay said nonchalantly. "I mostly just want to get her out of me at this point, I hate being so huge."

"Nah, they look great," Michael said. His heart skipped a beat when he caught his mistake. "I mean, you look great," he said quickly. He glanced over at Lindsay, praying she hadn't noticed, but her lips were spread in a wide gloating smile.

"Whoa…" she said.

"Shut up," Michael laughed uncomfortably, his face growing warm.


	43. Chapter 43

_February, 1992_

"Well, here we are," Michael said as he and Lindsay got out of the car.

Lindsay stood up and looked at the apartments as he got her suitcase out of the car, curious to see where he lived. It was hard to get a complete picture in the dark, but she could make out rows of buildings and a small playground a little ways away.

"Tracey's at her Women in Business meeting, so she won't be back until ten," Michael said, pulling her suitcase over to her. "Our neighbor's there watching George Michael right now."

They walked down the sidewalk towards the stairs of the nearest building. Lindsay was glad Tracey wasn't home. She was really enjoying spending time with Michael now. She didn't know why she'd been so nervous about this visit before.

"Here it is," Michael said after they'd reached the top of the stairs and come to a door. "Hopefully George Michael will be asleep, so we should be quiet." He took out his key and opened the door and they went inside. There was a light-haired woman in her mid-twenties sitting on the couch watching TV. She turned it off when they came in.

"Hi," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Christine," Michael said. "This is my sister, Lindsay. Lindsay, this is our neighbor, Christine."

"Nice to meet you," Christine said.

"Thanks, you too," Lindsay said.

"Thanks for staying here," Michael said. "Did he sleep the whole time?"

"Yep, didn't make a sound."

"Great. Well, see you around."

"Yeah, good night," she said, getting up and heading towards the door. "Tell Tracey I said hi."

"I will. Good night."

Christine left and closed the door behind her.

"She and her husband have a one-year-old. We take turns watching each other's kids," Michael explained. "Sorry the place is such a mess, I didn't have time to do much cleaning."

"No, it's fine," Lindsay said, looking around the apartment. It was a lot smaller than hers. With her father's help she and Tobias had been able to afford a three-bedroom house so they could continue to sleep in separate bedrooms when the baby was born, an arrangement that had significantly improved their marriage.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" Michael asked.

"Uh, I'll just have water. Thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

They went to the kitchen and Michael got her a glass of water.

"I still feel like I have no idea what's been going on in your life," he said. "What have you been up to?"

"Uh…" Lindsay said, thinking she hadn't been up to much of anything. She wished he would stop asking so many questions. She didn't like talking about anything that had happened to her since 1987, or anything that had happened to him for that matter. "I've been getting really into political activism," she said finally, thinking she'd at least be okay with talking about that. She was very proud of all the political and charitable endeavors she'd recently undertaken.

"Oh yeah, Mom told me you were involved in some anti-war protests?"

"Yeah, we picketed an air force base in Massachusetts," she said proudly.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I think we really made a difference. Lately I've been organizing my own fundraisers. I'm working on a wine and cheese fundraiser to send aid to Samoa right now."

"What's going on in Samoa?"

"There's a famine there," she said importantly. "And a war, too, I think."

"In Samoa?"

"Yeah, they're all starving to death and the U.S. isn't doing anything about it."

"I haven't heard about that."

"You see, that's the problem, the media just isn't covering it! And it's not just there, there are famines and wars all over Africa."

"Wait, do you mean Somalia?"

"What?"

"There's a famine in Somalia, Samoa's an island in the Pacific."

Lindsay looked at him blankly for a second. "Oh," she laughed, embarrassed. "Right, yeah, I meant Somalia. Well, anyway, I think we're going to raise a lot of money to help them."

"That's great. So are you coming back to California after Tobias finishes his residency program?"

"Oh," she said, surprised. "No, I don't think so, there's no plan for that right now."

"Oh, okay," he said. The disappointment in his voice made her feel a rush of warmth towards him.

"What about you, where are you going to go?" she asked. "When do you graduate anyway?" He was already in his fifth year of college, having had to cut down his class schedule to take care of George Michael.

"This spring, thank god. Same with Tracey. Then we're going back to LA. Dad offered me a job at the Bluth Company."

Lindsay laughed loudly. "You're going to work for Dad?"

"Shh," Michael reminded her, glancing down the hallway at what was presumably the door to George Michael's room.

"Oh, right, sorry," she said more quietly.

"It's fine," he laughed. "Yeah, I know it's not ideal, but it's a good job considering that I don't have any experience yet. And it's just temporary, once I get some experience I'll look for something else."

"It's just, you and Dad, that's a bad combination. You know he's going to treat you horribly to get you to work harder."

"I know he'll want to, but I won't give him any reason because I'll work hard anyway."

Lindsay laughed again involuntarily at this.

"Shh!" he said.

"Oh, sorry." She heard George Michael crying from down the hallway. "Oh no, I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed.

He sighed. "Don't worry, happens _all_ the time," he said, smiling at her. "Be right back."

He left the kitchen. Lindsay leaned back against the counter and looked at the fridge, which had various pictures of Michael and Tracey with friends she didn't recognize, pictures of George Michael, wedding pictures taken before the fire mishap… It all looked so grown-up. It was somewhat unsettling. It wasn't right, they were too young for this. She walked over to the couch and sat down. It sounded like George Michael was calming down now. She was glad, she felt embarrassed about waking him up. A few minutes later Michael came back in.

"Hey," she said, careful to be quieter now. "He went back to sleep?"

"Yeah. He cries a lot but he usually calms down pretty quickly. Sometimes he just wants to be held for a little while, it's really sweet."

"Aw," Lindsay said, more charmed by Michael's earnestness than George Michael.

"In a few months this will be you," Michael said, sitting down next to her on the couch.

"Yeah," Lindsay said, trying to fake some enthusiasm, though the thought sent a fresh wave of panic through her.

"Nervous?" Michael asked, apparently seeing through it.

Lindsay opened her mouth to deny it, but then closed it. It would be nice to share her fears with someone. "Yeah, a little," she said.

"Don't worry. I was really nervous too, but once they're born that all goes away."

"Yeah, I don't know if we'll be the same there," Lindsay muttered. She blushed at the look of surprise on Michael's face. "I mean, I _am_ really excited," she said quickly, embarrassed. "I've wanted this for a long time. Really long."

"Oh yeah, Mom told me you two were having trouble…"

"Yeah. It was his problem, not mine."

Michael raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Uh, okay. I don't think that really matters."

"Yeah, well," she said. He was right, it wasn't Tobias's fault, but so much else was. She thought about Tracey's accidental pregnancy and laughed. "Guess we kind of had the opposite problem there, huh?"

Michael laughed, his face turning a little pink. "Yeah, guess so. It all worked out, though. For both of us."

"Mm hm," she agreed, though she was thinking that she wasn't so sure about that.

"How are things going with you and Tobias?" Michael asked hesitantly.

"Uh, fine," she said, caught off guard. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, I was just asking."

"They're great," she lied.

"Great."

She hesitated. She'd gotten so used to lying to him and the rest of her family about her relationship with Tobias that it was hard to break the habit, but she did miss being able to share her problems with him, and talking to him like this was reminding her of when she could do that. "I mean, they could be better," she said tentatively, but it was such an understatement that it still felt like a lie. "No, they're bad, just really bad." She looked up at Michael's surprised expression and laughed sadly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Uh…" she said, not sure how much she wanted to tell him. "We've just been fighting a lot."

"Well, that's normal, all couples fight."

"Do you and Tracey?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah, uh… Yeah, a lot, actually."

"What about?" she said, surprised. They'd always seemed happy to her, though she'd only seen them together on a handful of occasions.

"Uh… Mostly about George Michael. We have very different parenting styles. I think most of it's just stress."

"Yeah, I can imagine. I can't believe you both stayed in school."

"Tell me about it. I feel so guilty about putting George Michael in daycare all the time."

"Don't worry about that. We were pretty much raised by Rosa and we turned out fine."

"Yeah, I guess. I don't really want to use Mom and Dad as the standard of good parenting, though. I don't know. We're both only taking as many credits as we need to graduate by the end of the year, but we're still too busy to take care of him all the time. And she's still doing a double major, I don't know why she won't just drop one. And now she's applying to jobs in LA…"

"You're both working?"

"Yep. We don't need to, my salary at the Bluth Company will be enough for the three of us, but she really wants to. I don't know, I guess I could be the one to take a break from working for a while, but I don't really want to either. And it makes sense, she worked really hard to get where she is, she doesn't want it to be for nothing."

"Jeez," Lindsay said. "Sometimes it's hard to believe we're related."

Michael laughed. "What, you and Tobias never fight about who gets to work?"

"Not exactly," she laughed.

"Yeah, I guess it's kind of a stupid thing to fight about." He laughed. "So what about you, what's going on in your marriage?"

She laughed. "Uh… I don't know, we just fight a lot. Nothing specific, really." She briefly considered telling him about Tobias being a never-nude, or her growing suspicion that he was gay, but she still couldn't, it was too embarrassing. Michael looked a little disappointed at her evasive answer, but he smiled at her anyway.

"Well, if you ever want to talk about it you can call me."

"Thanks, I will," she said, smiling back. She had no idea if she actually meant it. She felt a small kick inside her. "Hey, she's moving," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I just started feeling her a few weeks ago." She hesitated. "Do you want to feel?"

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Uh, yeah, sure." He awkwardly put his hand on her stomach. His touch sent a shiver through her.

"No, you've got to go lower," she said boldly, putting her hand on his and moving it lower on her abdomen. She felt him tense, but he smiled when he felt the baby moving.

"Oh yeah," he said excitedly.

"That's your niece," she said, her heart beating quickly. She kept her hand on his just to see if he would let her. He didn't. She saw his smile falter and then he gently pulled his hand out from under hers and returned it to his side. There was an awkward silence. "Yeah, I am excited," Lindsay said in an attempt to diffuse the tension, wondering what she'd been thinking. "It's just hard to believe, you know, that I'm going to have my own little daughter."

Michael smiled, looking reassured. "Yeah, it does take some getting used to."

Lindsay sighed, looking down at the wedding ring on his finger. "It's all so crazy," she said. "We're barely twenty-three. It feels like everything's moving so fast."

"Yeah, I feel like that too, sometimes."

Lindsay's eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them away before he could see, but then she thought about how much had changed since he'd left for college and how simple things had been back then and she couldn't keep from crying.

"What's wrong?" he said, surprised.

"Nothing," she laughed shakily. "It's just hormones. I've been a fountain of tears lately."

"Uh, okay," he laughed confusedly.

"It's just, I've missed you," she said before she could stop herself. She looked up at him. The surprise in his face made her wish she hadn't said it, but then he smiled warmly at her.

"I've missed you, too," he said.

"You have?" she choked, just so he would say it again.

"Yeah, like crazy," he said earnestly, which only made her cry more. "Hey, it's okay," he said, clearly surprised by this sudden display of emotion. He hesitated, then awkwardly wrapped his arm around her, just like he used to do. She leaned against him without hesitation, she didn't care if it made him uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and pretended they were sitting on her bed in Newport Beach, before any of the last four and a half years had happened, and she knew she still wasn't over him. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever wanted him to kiss her as much as she did at that moment. But it had never been so unlikely. She knew that some part of him still had feelings for her but he would never cheat on Tracey, especially not with his sister. Even before he'd gotten married he hadn't been able to get past that, but now it was just impossible. How had things gotten like this?

They both jumped at the sound of the door opening. Lindsay sat up and frantically wiped her tears away. Michael quickly pulled away from her, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Hi, Tracey," he said as Tracey came in through the door.

"Hi," she said cheerfully. "Lindsay, you're here! How was your flight?"

"Great," Lindsay said, praying she wouldn't be able to tell she'd been crying, but the way Tracey's smile faltered when she saw her face told her she could. "How was your meeting?" she said quickly in an attempt to act normal to cover it up.

"Uh, good, thank you," Tracey said, clearly embarrassed at having walked in on this emotional scene. "Well, you must be tired, we'll let you get some sleep. Michael, can you set up the bed for her?"

"Yeah, sure," Michael said quickly, looking embarrassed as well.

"Great, thanks," Tracey said, heading down the hallway. "Well, good night, Lindsay, it's so nice to see you."

"Thanks, you too," Lindsay said, feeling like she should be grateful for her tactful exit, but all she could feel was overwhelming frustration that she'd interrupted them.


	44. Chapter 44

_February, 1992_

Lindsay watched with mild aversion as George Michael stuffed spaghetti into his mouth, smearing red sauce all over his face in the process. Michael was at class and she was stuck eating lunch with Tracey and George Michael. Tracey laughed, noticing Lindsay watching him.

"Yeah, he can get a little messy," Tracey said, getting up and going to the kitchen. She got a wash rag and ran some water over it in the sink. "I really should stop giving him spaghetti, but it's his favorite." She returned to the table and wiped George Michael's face and hands. "There we go, all clean," she said, sitting back down.

"Do you know when Michael will be back?" Lindsay asked.

"Um, about an hour. Sorry we've been kind of in and out today, it's midterms week. I think we're going to do something this weekend, Michael probably has something planned."

"No problem. Thanks for having me."

"Of course, anytime. It will be nice to spend some time with you. I still feel like I barely know you. I mean, I've heard a lot from Michael, but…"

"Good things, I hope," Lindsay said, wondering what Michael had told her. Regardless, she doubted Tracey had a positive opinion of her given her behavior at her wedding.

"Yes, of course," Tracey laughed. She laughed way too much, Lindsay decided. "So he told me you're having a girl?"

"Yep," Lindsay said. Why was this the only thing people wanted to talk to her about now?

"Oh, that's so nice. Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Yes, Maeby."

"What are you thinking of?"

"Uh, Maeby. Oh, not the word 'maybe,' M-A-E-B-Y."

"Oh!" Tracey laughed, looking embarrassed. "I like that, it's cute."

"Thanks."

"I guess she and George Michael will be about the same age. That's so nice, they can be friends."

"Yeah, that would be nice."

"Hi!" George Michael said suddenly.

"Hi, baby!" Tracey said to him. "He doesn't like to be left out," she said to Lindsay, smiling affectionately at George Michael. Lindsay laughed uncomfortably. She wasn't good with little kids. "George Michael, this is Aunt Lindsay," Tracey said. "Can you say Lindsay? _Lind-say_?"

"Li," he said.

Tracey laughed. "Close enough. He's been getting better at learning words. Michael's been going crazy with the phonics training stuff, I think he's already trying to prepare him for Harvard."

Lindsay forced a laugh. She didn't like hearing Tracey talk about Michael. She couldn't do this anymore, she needed a break.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk, get some fresh air," she said, standing up.

"Oh," Tracey said, surprised. "Do you want me to join you?"

"No," she said quickly. "That's okay, I'm sure you have a lot to do," she added, realizing that might have sounded rude. "Thanks, though."

"Sure, enjoy your walk," she said. Lindsay thought she looked slightly offended, but it was hard to tell.

"Thanks," she said, heading towards the door. She quickly put on her shoes and went outside. She closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, unsure where to go. The sky was pale gray and there was a slight breeze. She hoped it wasn't going to rain, she wanted to stay out as long as possible. She walked down the stairs. She could just follow the sidewalk for a while. She didn't much care where she went, as long as she was out of that apartment.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and set off down the sidewalk. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. It wasn't just jealousy. That was probably part of it, but it wasn't what caused the overwhelming sense of unease she felt when she was in there. Maybe it was just seeing how much Michael's life had changed without her, or comparing his life to hers, or the heartbreaking realization that Tracey was a much more important part of his life than she was now. She wished she hadn't come here. It had felt so good to talk to him the night before, but then Tracey had come home and ruined it, and she didn't know if she would be alone with him again on this trip. Even if she was it wouldn't be the same. She didn't feel like opening up to him anymore. She just wanted to leave, though she didn't really want to go home either.


	45. Chapter 45

_February, 1992_

Lindsay stood on the sidewalk with Michael as Tracey got George Michael out of his car seat. It had been raining all night but it had finally stopped, though there were still a few scattered drops falling from the trees and the road was glistening with the light of the streetlights in the water. It was blessedly the last night of her week-long stay and they'd just gone out to dinner and were now back at Michael and Tracey's apartment.

"Here, I'll take him," Michael said, going over to Tracey.

"Thanks," she said, giving George Michael to him.

Lindsay watched as he took him from her, struck by how much older he looked. It was strange seeing him in this husband-father role given that the last time she'd spent more than a week at a time with him was when they were still teenagers. She thought about Michael's confession that he and Tracey had been fighting a lot and felt a flash of anger. Didn't Tracey realize how lucky she was? She would give anything to be married to someone like him. They started walking towards the apartment building.

"So I'll be driving you to the airport in the morning," Michael said to her as they climbed up the stairs. "We should probably leave by six to make sure we get there on time."

"Ugh. Okay," Lindsay groaned, not thrilled at the prospect of waking up before dawn.

"I can't believe you're leaving already, it feels like you just barely got here," Tracey said.

"Yeah, it does," Lindsay agreed, thinking it had felt like an eternity. She suspected that Tracey had picked up on her dislike of her and was being extra nice to her to show her she was wrong. They stepped into the apartment.

"Well, you'll have to visit again sometime, you're welcome any time," Tracey said.

"Thank you, I will."

"Well, I'd better get this guy to bed, it is well past his bedtime," Michael said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, see you," Lindsay said. "Hey, can I use your phone? I need to call Tobias."

"Sure. Good night," he said, carrying George Michael out of the room.

"Well, it was so nice to have you here," Tracey gushed.

"Thank you, it was nice of you to invite me," Lindsay said, praying she would leave now. "Good night," she added to speed up the process.

"Good night," Tracey said, and followed Michael out of the room.

Lindsay went to the kitchen and picked up the phone and dialed the number. She sat down at the counter while she waited for Tobias to pick up. She hadn't called him since the first night of the trip, and that had only been a quick call to let him know she'd made it there safely. She felt a little guilty about it. Tobias had been a lot nicer to her lately, seeming to be trying to save their marriage now that she was pregnant, but she just didn't have it in her to treat him the same way. The only reason she was calling now was that she needed him to pick her up from the airport tomorrow.

"Hello, Fünke residence," she heard him say in that annoying chirpy way of his.

"Hi, Tobias, it's Lindsay," she said with a half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm.

"Lindsay! I was beginning to feel just a teensy bit hurt that you hadn't called me—"

"Yeah, sorry, I've been really busy."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. You see, what I was about to say is that I realized that the real reason you weren't calling me was that you missed me _too much_. It's like a case I came across in my studies. By not calling me, you could exist in a state of psychological limbo, if you will, in which you did not have to acknowledge that we were apart. Calling me would force you to accept this sad reality, which was simply too painful."

Lindsay sat open-mouthed. She'd intended to be nice to him but this was really too much. "That wasn't it," she said bluntly. "I just called because I need you to pick me up at the airport tomorrow night. Can you meet me at the baggage claim at eight?"

"Oh," he said, clearly hurt. "Yes, yes, of course."

"Thanks. Bye," she said, and hung up without waiting for a response. She got up and went to her suitcase and took her pajamas out. She shouldn't have been so terse, she'd probably hurt his feelings. She tried to push the conversation from her mind. She didn't want to feel guilty right now, she had enough to deal with. Couldn't he just give her break?

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she passed George Michael's room she heard Michael reading to him. She quickly stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. She didn't want Michael to see her and try to talk to her. She stood there for a moment, her hand still on the doorknob. She could still hear Michael reading to George Michael. She leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes, listening to the exaggerated tones of his voice moving up and down, and then she was crying. She didn't try to stop herself, it felt so good to cry after a week of holding back tears. She sank down to the floor and buried her face in her hands, her whole body shaking with sobs, though she was careful not to make any noise so Michael wouldn't hear.

He was just so _happy_. Sure, he was stressed with school and taking care of George Michael and he occasionally argued with his wife, but it was _nothing_ compared to her life. She felt like all the bad decisions she'd made in the last four and a half years were closing in on her and she didn't see any way out of it. She hated herself, she hated her life, and she hated Michael, for abandoning her and then acting like he hadn't done anything wrong. He should have been there for her, he'd always been there to keep her from making too much of a mess of things.

She shouldn't have come here, she didn't know what she'd expected. It was never going to be like before. Too much had changed, he didn't care about her like he used to. He had his wife and his son now and she was just on the periphery, someone to feel guilty about falling out of touch with every now and then. It was so unfair, she didn't deserve this. Couldn't he see what he was doing to her? Yes, coming here was a mistake, it wasn't worth it, not even close.


	46. Chapter 46

_December, 1992_

"So how does it feel to be twenty-four?" Tracey asked when the door closed behind their babysitter, speaking quietly so she wouldn't wake up George Michael. She and Michael had just gotten back from a date night, having gone out to dinner and a movie to celebrate Michael's birthday. They were renting a small house in Los Angeles now, which they'd moved into after graduating six months earlier. Now Michael was working for his father at the Bluth Company and Tracey was working as an accountant and getting the experience she needed to become a tax consultant.

"Good," he said. "Thank you, that was a really fun birthday."

"Oh, it's not over yet," she said playfully.

"Really," he said, hoping she meant what he thought she did.

"Yeah, I've got one more surprise for you. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay," he laughed as she went off to the bedroom. He watched her leave, eager to see what the surprise was, then went to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

As he was waiting a picture on the fridge of Lindsay with her husband and daughter caught his eye, reminding him that she still hadn't called him. He checked the time on the new watch Tracey had given him. 10:30. He did the math to the time in Boston. It was 1:30 am there, so she probably wasn't planning on calling him tonight. He'd always been the one to call Lindsay on their birthday, but this year he'd decided to wait to see if she would call him. Of course, she hadn't. Ever since Lindsay had gone back to Boston after her visit in February she'd been almost completely absent from his life. He'd called her a few times in the months afterwards, hoping her openness on the first night of her visit had meant their years of silence were finally over, but every time she was just as distant as before and always quickly made some excuse to get off the phone, and he'd eventually given up on trying to talk to her. He'd called her after the birth of her daughter in May, but they hadn't talked once since then. It was all very frustrating. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He could tell she was having a rough time and he wanted to help her, and he also just wanted her to be in his life again because he missed how close they'd been when they were kids, but she just wasn't letting him. He was done trying. If she wanted to talk to him she could call him, but he wasn't going to continue trying to keep them from drifting apart when she clearly didn't care one way or the other.

"Hello, handsome," he heard Tracey say. He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway of the bedroom in a lacy powder blue babydoll. He'd never seen her in lingerie before. He laughed in surprise.

"Hello, beautiful," he said. "Wow."

She laughed. "You like it?" she said, smiling playfully, though she looked a little embarrassed. It was very endearing.

" _Yes,"_ he said emphatically. "Wow, you look amazing."

She laughed. He stood up and walked over to her and kissed her, wrapping his arm around her back. He felt her exhale and go slack like she always did when he kissed her. They stood in the living room and kissed for a while, Michael enjoying the familiar scent of her perfume and how soft her body felt under the silky blue fabric.

"Okay, let's go," she said, pulling him into the bedroom. He laughed and went with her, kissing her all the way. He closed the door behind them and they collapsed onto the bed next to each other. She laughed and smiled at him. She really did look pretty with her face flushed pink and her bright red curls spilling over her pale shoulders. He pulled her close to him and kissed her again.


	47. Chapter 47

_August, 1996_

Michael turned the car onto his street, relieved to be almost home. He'd had a rough day at work. Today had been one of his father's 'Black Fridays,' the name he'd given to the surprise mass firings he did every year or two to keep his employees on their toes. Usually George Sr. did the firing himself, but this time he'd made Michael do it. It had been hard to spend all day telling his coworkers they were out of a job for no reason at all, especially since he was significantly younger than all of them, as well as the boss's son, which had been the subject of some pointed comments made by some of the angrier ones. It also made him a little nervous about his own job security. He didn't think his father would fire him, but he had certainly done worse things in the past.

He pulled into the driveway. Tracey's car was there. Her commute was shorter than his so she usually got home first and picked up George Michael from daycare. He got out of the car and went into the house. Tracey was sitting at the table with George Michael, who was coloring. Michael felt a flicker of annoyance when he saw the bottle of beer next to her. When they were in college he'd thought her heavy drinking was kind of fun, but now it was starting to seem like a problem, especially when it was around George Michael. Michael was worried she was setting a bad example for him.

"Hi," Tracey said, looking up as he came in. "Happy Friday."

"Thanks, you too," Michael said, taking off his shoes. He walked over to them and sat down at the table. "What are you working on there?" he asked George Michael.

"I'm drawing penguins," he said.

"He's been learning about penguins in school," Tracey explained, smiling affectionately at George Michael.

"Really," Michael said. "What did you learn about penguins?"

"Emperor penguins are really big. They're as big as me."

"Oh yeah, I can see that in your picture," Michael said, looking at the picture, which was of George Michael with some penguins that were the same size as him. He would have to add this to the drawer of his artwork he had at work.

"Hey, Michael, can you help me with dinner?" Tracey asked.

"Sure," Michael said. They got up and went to the kitchen.

"I was thinking just spaghetti tonight?" she said.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, you do the noodles, I'll do the sauce."

"Okay," Michael said, getting a pot out of the cabinet and filling it with water. "How was work?"

"Good. I got a new client today. She reminds me of your mother."

"Oh god."

She laughed. "Yeah, but she scheduled ten sessions with me so I'm not complaining."

"That's great. Good job."

"Thanks. What about you, how was your day?"

He laughed dryly. "Awful. It was another Black Friday. He made me fire twelve people."

"Oh," she gasped. "That's terrible! Why did he make _you_ do it?"

"I don't know, I think he thinks it will make me tougher or something. It really should be him since he actually enjoys firing people."

"You need to quit," she said seriously.

Michael sighed. "No, we've talked about this…"

"You can't let him treat you like this."

"I know, but it will all be worth it when he retires and makes me CEO."

" _If_ he makes you CEO," she muttered.

"He will, he's been hinting at it for years," he said, annoyed.

"He's just trying to motivate you, he's not actually planning on it. You said yourself that he shoots down all your ideas."

"That's just because he thinks it will make me work harder."

"That's my point, you shouldn't be working at a place where your boss plays all these mind games with you. I went through this with my mom. I know it's hard to break away, but you'll be so much happier when you do."

"I'm fine, I grew up with him, I know how to handle it," he insisted, wishing he'd just said his day was fine and left it at that. "Anyway, what else would I do? I doubt I could find a job that pays as well as this one."

"We're doing fine, it would be worth it."

"I'm not quitting, okay? We need to save for George Michael's college education, I can't just go switching jobs because of a little conflict with my dad."

"Yeah, because you were really thinking of George Michael's college education when you bought that car," she muttered.

"We needed another car so we could stop taking turns taking the bus to work every day!"

"You could have discussed it with me!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he said, stung. His latest birthday present of a new car for her had not gone over well.

She sighed exasperatedly. "I know, but you don't give someone a car as a surprise, we need to discuss things like that."

"Okay, I'm sorry, in the future I'll make sure to do that," he said tersely.

"Thank you," she said somewhat sarcastically, and they continued cooking in silence.

Michael glared at the noodles swirling around in the boiling water. The last thing he'd wanted tonight was another argument with his wife. Her criticism of his spending habits was a particularly sore spot for him as he'd always considered himself to be good with money, but Tracey was frugal to a fault. As for quitting his job, he couldn't just go to another company. Ever since he was a kid he'd dreamed of one day taking over the family business from his father and continuing his legacy, but he would be even better. He would run it honestly, without all the shady deals he suspected his father was hiding from him and without using large sums of company money for the family's personal expenses. He did really hate working for him, but it would all be worth it when he was CEO. Tracey didn't understand. He knew she was trying to do what she thought was best for him, but it was a little annoying, especially considering how defensive she always got whenever he tried to give her advice.

He'd been feeling a little resentful toward Tracey ever since she'd recently told him after years of stalling that she didn't want another baby, end of discussion. He knew it was as much her decision as his, but he wished she'd been more upfront about it instead of making excuses for the last four years about why they had to wait. And it was a little hard to accept that one child was all he was ever going to have. He'd always pictured himself having a big family, at least three or four kids, and it made him sad that George Michael would grow up without siblings. He understood that Tracey didn't want to put her career on hold to raise another baby or go through pregnancy and labor again, but he wished she would take his feelings into account too instead of just steamrolling over him like usual.


	48. Chapter 48

_September, 1996_

"You know, Kyle said he rode on the Jaguar and that it was really scary, but I didn't think it was that scary," George Michael said to Michael as they walked to the house from the car, referring the roller coaster they'd just ridden on.

"Is that right?" Michael said as they stepped inside. Kyle was a boy in George Michael's class who had been picking on him. "You should tell Kyle that."

"Yeah, I'll tell him."

Michael had quit his job that day in an impulsive act of defiance after his father had criticized him one too many times. To celebrate he'd picked up George Michael from school and taken him to Knott's Berry Farm instead of daycare. He'd left a message on Tracey's work phone to tell her where they were but he hadn't explained why he'd left work early, wanting to tell her in person. He had more than a few doubts about his hasty decision, but he was trying not to let them spoil the high he was on from finally standing up to his father.

Tracey came out of the bedroom.

"Mommy, we went to Knott's Berry Farm!" George Michael said excitedly.

"Knott's Berry Farm?" she said, mirroring his excitement.

"Yeah, and we went on the Jaguar and it was so fast, and then we went to Burger King for dinner."

"Wow, that sounds like a good day!"

"Yeah, it was!"

Tracey laughed and looked questioningly at Michael.

"Hey, George Michael, can you go play in your room for a little bit while I talk to your mom?" Michael asked.

"Okay," George Michael said, and went to his room.

"What's going on? I got your message," Tracey said when he was gone.

"I quit," Michael said, grinning.

"You…wait, you quit your job?"

"Yep."

"Oh my god, really?" she said excitedly.

"Yeah, you were right, I'll be better off doing something else."

She laughed in disbelief. "Wow, that's amazing!" She hesitated, then hugged him. "This is the right decision, I know it is," she said.

"Yeah, I think so," he said, hugging her back. He wasn't thrilled to be admitting she'd been right, but it was nice to have her so happy for him. She pulled away and smiled at him.

"So you just quit, just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Okay, I want to hear all about this," she said, sitting on the couch. He sat down with her, happy to have an audience.

"Okay, well, you know that business model I've been working on."

"Yes."

"Well, he shot it down like usual, and I was walking out of his office, and then I turned around and said, 'I quit.'"

She laughed giddily. "What did he say?"

"He was really surprised. I don't think he meant to push me into quitting. He tried to convince me not to but I just walked out of there."

"And then you took George Michael to Knott's Berry Farm?"

"Yeah. Well, I had the rest of the day free and I haven't been able to spend much time with him lately since I've been working so hard, so I figured I might as well."

"Well, you deserve a celebration," she said, snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arm around her. "So what are you going to do now?" she asked. "Do you think you'll go to another real estate company?"

"Uh, actually I've been thinking I might become a lawyer instead," he said cautiously.

"A lawyer?"

"Yeah, a maritime lawyer." The idea had hit him on his way to George Michael's school. He may not be able to realize his childhood dream of being CEO of the Bluth Company anymore, but he could still realize his other one of being a maritime lawyer that he'd had ever since he'd played one in a school play, _The Trial of Captain Hook_.

"What's a maritime lawyer?"

"Uh, you know, like a lawyer of the sea."

"Hm. You'd have to go to law school for that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, but I was thinking I'd go somewhere with in-state tuition, and we have some money in savings and your income from your job," he said hopefully. He'd gotten so excited about the idea throughout the day and he didn't want to let it go.

"Yeah," she said skeptically. "But why wouldn't you just get another job in housing? You already have experience there."

"I know, but…I don't want to get another job just like my old one but with less money and a smaller chance of being promoted. It's not like I'm really interested in housing, I only did it because it was my family's company."

Tracey hesitated. "Well, I guess we could handle it, and you'd pay back all the student loans eventually once you got a job."

"Yeah, exactly," he said quickly.

"Is that really what you want to do?"

"Yes, I really do."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "Yeah, let's do it."

"Thank you," Michael said, relieved.

"Yeah, it's a good idea actually. You can make a lot of money as a lawyer, and if you'd be happier doing it, even better."

"Exactly," he said, reassured by her words.

"So I guess you should start applying to law schools. Oh, and you'll have to take the LSAT, right?"

"Oh yeah, I'd better start studying right away."

"Take a week off first," she said, smiling at him. "You've earned it."

"Thanks," he said, squeezing her more tightly.


	49. Chapter 49

_June, 1998_

Michael stepped quietly into the dark bedroom, grateful to finally be going to sleep. He'd stayed up late preparing for a final the next day. He carefully got into bed, trying not to wake Tracey, but she was a light sleeper.

"Mm," she murmured, turning her head to look at him. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"3:30."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks," he whispered. "Good night."

"Good night," she said, and turned away again.

Michael rolled over as well and closed his eyes, though he doubted he would be able to fall asleep anytime soon with his worries about the test tomorrow. He didn't feel as prepared as he'd like to be, but he'd decided at this point a few hours of sleep was more important than studying.

He was finishing up his first year of law school and feeling stretched to the breaking point. He was staying up almost every night and for the first time in his life he was getting C's on a regular basis. His classmates told him that was normal in law school, but it still freaked him out, and it was frustrating that all the hard work he was putting in still wasn't enough. He hadn't admitted it to anyone, but he missed his old job. His father may have treated him horribly, but at least he'd felt like he was good at it, and he'd gotten a full night's sleep every night and still had the evenings and weekends free to spend with his family. He was so busy with homework he barely had any time to spend with George Michael or Tracey anymore. And on top of all that they were taking out twenty thousand dollars a year in loans. He kept reminding himself that he'd get a job when he was done and pay it all back, but he still felt pathetic depending on his wife's income and draining their savings, savings that should be going to his son's college fund. And he was only one year in. He felt totally lost. He couldn't quit, not after he'd convinced Tracey to go along with it, not to mention all the time and money they'd put in. But he couldn't do this for another three years either. He should have never gotten himself into this mess, he should have found another job in housing like Tracey had suggested, or just stayed at the Bluth Company. Now he was in a constant state of anxiety and he didn't know how to get out of it.


	50. Chapter 50

_June, 1998_

"So how does it feel to be done with your master's degree?" Michael asked Buster. The whole family except Lindsay and her husband and daughter were gathered at his parents' penthouse to celebrate George Michael's eighth birthday.

"Oh, it is a weight off my back," Buster said emphatically. "I can't even describe how good it feels."

"That's great," Michael said, a little enviously. "So what are you going to do now?"

"Well, I'm thinking I'll get a degree in Scandinavian folklore next, and after that maybe cartography."

"Oh," Michael said, surprised. "I thought you were going to get a job, you know, maybe move out of Mom and Dad's place?"

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," Buster said. He leaned in conspiratorially. "Mom needs me here," he said in a low voice. "I don't think she could function without me."

Michael raised his eyebrows, thinking it was the other way around. He'd been uncertain about Buster's job prospects with a degree in eighteenth-century agrarian business, but he'd still hoped he might finally leave their parents' apartment. He'd always expected his younger brother to have difficulties leaving home, but it was still sad to see him so dependent on their mother at twenty-five years old.

"Hi, Buster," Tracey said, coming over to join them. "It was so nice of you to come, I'm sure George Michael appreciates it."

"Oh, of course! I love parties! Love 'em!" Buster said, and blew his party horn. Tracey laughed nervously. She still found Buster a little unsettling, though she always treated him politely. "Ooh, a magic trick," Buster said, seeing Gob performing card tricks for George Michael. He hurried over to them, leaving Michael and Tracey by themselves.

"How are you doing?" Michael asked Tracey under his breath. He still felt a little embarrassed whenever Tracey was around his family.

"Good," she said. "I was just talking to your mother. Turns out the new staff at the country club is not up to snuff."

"Ugh. Sorry."

"No, it's fine," she laughed. "I'm just glad she seems to like me."

"Yeah, me too," Michael agreed. His mother's uncharacteristic fondness for Tracey was still something of a mystery to him, but a very welcome one. It was certainly preferable to his father's behavior. Ever since Michael had left the Bluth Company almost two years ago George Sr. had complained constantly that Tracey was trying to drive a wedge between them, often when Tracey was in earshot.

"It looks like George Michael's having fun," Tracey said, gesturing towards their son, who was watching Gob's card tricks with rapt attention.

Michael groaned. "I wish Gob would stop doing those magic tricks for him, the last thing I want is for my son to become a magician."

Tracey laughed. "Lighten up, it's sweet that he looks up to his uncle."

"I thought you didn't like Gob."

"Well, he did set me on fire at my wedding, but it's nice that George Michael likes him."

"Yeah, I guess," Michael said. He didn't like George Michael's admiration for his older brother, or that he was so much more interested in Gob's magic tricks than hearing about maritime law.

Lucille came over to them. "Hello," she said sweetly. "Sorry to interrupt, but can you come help me in the kitchen, Tracey?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Thank you," Lucille said, and quickly walked to the kitchen, pulling Tracey along with her by the arm. "Oh, just Tracey," she said when Michael tried to follow them.

"Why?" he said, confused, and wondering what she needed help with in the kitchen, as she always relegated all cooking and cleaning duties to her housekeeper, Luce.

"Because I only need one person. You should go talk to your father, you haven't talked to him yet."

"Wha—" Michael started to say, but she was already whisking Tracey off to the kitchen.

"Michael!" George Sr. said genially, appearing out of nowhere. Michael jumped. "Come have a drink with me on the balcony, I've been meaning to catch up with you."

"Uh, okay," Michael said as George Sr. guided him out onto the balcony, alarmed by his sudden appearance and forced friendliness. Things had been very tense between them since he'd quit his job. They stepped out onto the balcony, where there was a bottle of scotch and two glasses waiting for them. George Sr. poured liberally and gave the fuller glass to Michael. Michael took it but didn't drink.

"Sit down, have a drink," George Sr. said, sitting down on one of the balcony chairs. Michael sat down on the one next to him.

"What's going on, Dad?"

"What's going on? I just want to talk you, you know, catch up."

"Okay…" he said suspiciously. George Sr. took a sip of his drink. Michael left his untouched, half afraid it was laced with some kind of drug. Everything about this screamed trap, but he didn't know what it was for.

"So how are you doing?" George Sr. said. "How's law school going?"

"Fine," he lied.

"You're not struggling at all? Feeling in over your head?"

"No…"

"What about tuition, you're not having any trouble paying it?"

"No, we're doing fine," he said, starting to see where this was going.

"Good, good," George Sr. said, nodding and looking out over the railing at the night sky. Michael cursed himself. In a moment of weakness he'd told his mother about his struggles in law school. She must have passed it on to his father. "I only ask because we could really use you back at the Bluth Company, with all those bright ideas of yours," George Sr. continued.

"You hated my ideas. All of them."

"What? That's not true, you always had great ideas."

"I'm not coming back, Dad."

"Okay, okay, I just thought I'd mention it," he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "It is a shame, though. I'm thinking about retiring in a year or two and I would have liked to still have some family in the business, you know, to run it according to the Bluth values." Michael looked up at him. Was he saying he'd make him CEO? "But I guess we'll just have to make do," George Sr. said, getting up from his chair. He patted Michael on the shoulder. "Good luck in law school," he said, and went back inside.


	51. Chapter 51

_June, 1998_

Michael sat on the living room couch watching TV, though he wasn't paying much attention. Seconds after his father had left him on the balcony he'd followed him and told him he'd take his old job back. It had been an impulsive decision, but the more he thought about it the surer he was that it was the right one. He could already feel some of the stress of the last year starting to lift knowing that soon everything would be returning to normal. Now he just needed to tell Tracey. He wasn't looking forward to it—she could get vicious when she was angry, and this was certainly cause for anger. He hadn't told her at the party or on the way home, not wanting to start a fight in front of George Michael on his birthday, but now they were home and as soon as Tracey finished reading George Michael his bedtime story he was going to tell her.

The door to George Michael's room opened and Tracey came into the living room.

"Well, another birthday done," she said, sitting next to him on the couch. "I think it was a success."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, turning off the TV.

"He _loves_ the lightsaber toy. Good thinking on that one."

Michael laughed. "Thanks," he said. Tracey winced and touched her stomach. "Stomach pain again?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"No, I'm sure it's nothing."

"Alright," he said. He had to tell her now, but how should he start?

"I think I'm going to go to bed early, I'm feeling kind of worn out from the party," Tracey said, getting up.

"Oh, okay," Michael said, caught off guard. Maybe he should wait until morning? No, that would make it even worse. "Wait," he said as she put her hand on the doorknob.

"What?"

"I, uh, I need to talk to you about something."

"Um, okay," she laughed confusedly. She returned to the couch and sat back down.

"So, I was talking to my dad at the party," Michael said anxiously. "And he offered me old my job back. I told him I'd take it."

"What?" she said. "You're not serious."

"I know how you feel about me working there, but—"

"You're in law school! You're going to be a maritime lawyer!"

"I know, I—I don't think I'll go back to school in the fall, it's a waste of money when I already have a job."

"You didn't even discuss this with me, you just decided to go ahead and do it?"

"I'm sorry, it's just, it's the right decision—"

"You call him right now and tell him you changed your mind!"

"Keep your voice down, George Michael will hear."

"I don't care, just call him!" she said furiously, though she did lower her voice.

"We can't just keep pouring money into this—"

"We've already _spent_ so much money on this! And all the time you've put in—you can't let it all be for nothing!"

"I'm sorry, I should have never done this, but it will be even worse if we do another three years."

"Why? You don't want to put the work in, it's too hard for you so you're quitting?"

"No, that's not why!" he said, stung. "We need to save for George Michael's education, and pay off the student loans we already have. We can't be adding more when I already have a job. And my dad said he's going to retire soon and make me CEO."

"Oh my god," she said, burying her face in her hands. "He said that? He actually said, 'I'm going to make you CEO?'"

"Well, he hinted at it," he said. She laughed derisively. "I shouldn't have said 'hinted,' it was clear that was what he meant," he quickly added.

"Don't you see? He just wants to control you again! If he was actually going to make you CEO he would tell you. He won't say it so you can't hold him to anything."

"I think he's just trying to make sure I don't take it for granted so I keep working hard. He's always said I would run the company someday. And even if he doesn't, he's still going to retire soon and I won't have to work for him anymore, and I'll have a good, stable job and we'll save sixty thousand dollars."

"And twenty thousand completely wasted!" she said furiously. Michael recoiled. He'd gotten so caught up in the argument he'd forgotten that he really had no moral high ground here. Tracey leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. "You told me law school was what you wanted to do," she groaned. "That's the only reason I went along with it."

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it, he wanted so much to undo this whole thing.

She sighed. "Okay, fine, go back to the Bluth Company. I don't want to hear you complaining about work again, though, this is your choice."

Michael blinked. He hadn't realized his complaints had bothered her. It had just been nice to have someone to vent to. "Yeah, I—I won't," he stammered.

"Okay. I'm going to bed now," she said, and got up and left the room.


	52. Chapter 52

_October, 1998_

Michael stepped into the living room and saw Tracey sitting on the couch reading a magazine, an empty bottle of beer on the side table next to her. George Michael was in the backyard playing with the neighbors' kids.

"Hey, you should probably get started on dinner soon, it's almost seven," Michael said.

"Damn, is it my turn tonight?"

"Yeah, it's Thursday."

"Ugh," she groaned. "I'm really tired tonight. Can we just order a pizza?"

"Yeah, sure," Michael said, feeling a little annoyed—he always made dinner when it was his turn—but he didn't want to start a fight, so he decided to let it go. Things had been very tense between them ever since he'd dropped out of law school. He sat down on the couch. Tracey got up and went to the fridge and got herself another beer.

"Another one?" Michael said.

"Uh, yeah? What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Michael said as she returned to the living room and sat back down on the couch. But this was getting ridiculous, he had to bring it up sometime. "Actually, could you stop drinking so much around George Michael?" he said.

"What?"

"It's just, we need to model responsible drinking for him. I'm worried you're setting a bad example."

"I'm not being irresponsible, I'm just sitting in the house. It's not like I'm driving or anything."

"I know, but it's every night, it's unhealthy."

"It's not every night."

"Pretty close!"

She gave him a dangerous look. "Okay, you have got to calm down about all this parenting stuff, you take it way too seriously."

"It's something that should be taken seriously."

"And you think I'm not?"

"No, that's not what I meant, it's just this one thing—"

"It's everything! Everything I do is wrong! Ever since he was born all you've done is criticize me."

"That's not true."

"You're the one who's suffocating him with all your ridiculous rules and standards!"

"Suffocating?" Michael repeated incredulously.

"Yes! Like when you wouldn't buy him a new lightsaber when he lost his."

"He needs to learn not to lose things."

"He's eight years old! You're just like your dad with all his mind games!"

"Jesus Christ, I ask you to drink a little less around our son and you turn it into a big fight."

" _I_ did?"

"Yes, you did! Every time I give you any kind of suggestion you just fly off the handle!"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

Michael heard the fridge in the kitchen open. He looked towards the kitchen and saw a George Michael-sized shadow on the wall. How long had he been there? Tracey fell silent, too. Michael got up and went to the kitchen.

"George Michael!" he said with forced cheerfulness. "Did you have fun with the Olsons?"

"Yeah," George Michael said gloomily, his eyes downcast, breaking Michael's heart. This was far from the first time he'd overheard them fighting.

"Hey, we're going to order pizza tonight," he said brightly. "What kind do you want?"

"Uh, I'm fine with anything."

"No, really, what do you want?" he pressed. George Michael had a habit of being overly accommodating.

"I don't know. Hawaiian, I guess?"

"Hawaiian it is! I'll go order it."

He went to the phone and took the phonebook out of the drawer below it. He glanced into the living room and saw Tracey looking at them. She quickly turned away, her expression stony, and got up and went to the bedroom.


	53. Chapter 53

_October, 1998_

"Oh, George Michael, tell your dad about your math test," Tracey said as she helped George Michael load the dishwasher and Michael put away the leftovers from dinner.

"Oh yeah, I got an A minus on my test," George Michael said proudly.

"Really," Michael said, smiling at him over his shoulder as he spooned the leftover chili into tupperware. "Good job."

"Thanks! Can we go get ice cream now?"

"Well, ice cream is for A's and A pluses, but if you study a little harder you might get it next time."

"I think we can get him ice cream for A minuses, too," Tracey said, sounding annoyed.

"Well, the rule is A's and A pluses…"

"For god's sake," she snapped. " _I'll_ get you ice cream," she said to George Michael.

"Tracey—"

"An A minus is a good grade! Come on, let's go right now," she said, setting the plate she was holding down on the counter.

"It's okay, I don't need ice cream," George Michael said quickly.

"No, you've earned it! Come on, let's go," she said, heading towards the living room. George Michael looked uncertainly at Michael.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," he sighed, trying to hide how angry he was with Tracey. George Michael nervously turned and followed her to the front door.


	54. Chapter 54

_October, 1998_

Michael sat in bed looking over the materials for the presentation to the Bluth Company investors he had to give in two days, but he was having trouble focusing through his anger. Tracey and George Michael were still out getting ice cream. For crying out loud, he was just trying to teach him to work hard in school and she had to go and undercut his efforts and make him look like the bad guy. She was probably just still angry over their latest fight about her letting George Michael go to the park by himself and she was trying to get back at him.

He heard the front door open and Tracey's and George Michael's voices as they came into the house. A minute later Tracey came into the bedroom.

"Hey," Michael said, getting up from the bed. "What was all that about earlier?"

"I took our son to get ice cream, what's the problem?" she sighed as she hung her jacket up in the closet.

"You undermined my parenting."

"Oh, is that what that was?" she said poisonously.

"Yes, I'm trying to teach him to work hard in school!"

"He is working hard, he got an A minus!"

"I know, but he gets A minuses all the time, he can do better. If we get him ice cream after every test it's not a reward anymore."

"You're putting too much pressure on him. He's in third grade, his grades don't matter."

"I'm trying to prepare him for when they do matter."

"Then help him with his homework, don't make him feel bad about himself."

"I do help him with his homework! And I'm not 'making him feel bad about himself,' I'm just trying to help him reach his full potential, and if you've got a problem with that you should talk to me about it instead of fighting with me right in front of him."

"I was trying to protect him from you!"

"Protect him?"

"Yes! He was excited to tell you about his grade and all you did was make him feel like it wasn't good enough!"

"I'm just trying to help him do well in school!" he said, hurt and angry that she thought his son needed to be protected from him. "And you know what, while we're on the subject of parenting, how about you stop getting drunk every night, or sending him to the park by himself—"

"Oh my god, it was five minutes away!"

"He could have been hit by a car! Or kidnapped! It's a wonder he's made it to eight years old—"

Tracey slapped him. Michael looked at her, stunned. He touched his face where she'd hit him. She hesitated for a moment, looking a little stunned herself, then stormed out of the room.


	55. Chapter 55

_October, 1998_

Michael lay in the darkness, watching Tracey silently enter the room and get in bed next to him. She quickly turned so that she was lying with her back to him. He could almost feel the iciness emanating from her. He looked up at the ceiling.

He was still reeling from the fight a few hours ago. They'd had a lot of arguments, especially in the last few months, but never _this_ bad. He pictured her slapping him again. Was that normal for married couples? He didn't think so. He shouldn't have said those things, no wonder she'd been upset. Of course she'd said some pretty nasty things too. How had things gotten so bad?

He remembered a statistic he'd seen a couple of years ago about how marriages that were a result of unplanned pregnancies were more likely to end in divorce. At the time he'd thought it didn't apply to them. They probably would have gotten married anyway, just a few years later. But god, things had been so bad lately. She wouldn't leave him, would she? This was just a rough patch, it would get better. The thought of getting divorced made him feel sick. She could be infuriating at times, but it was only because she'd had such a messed up childhood. He still loved her just as much as he had the day he'd married her. More, actually, now that he knew her better. He'd gotten so used to her over the last nine years. He couldn't imagine living apart, only seeing each other when they were shuffling George Michael between houses, after everything they'd been through together. And it would be so embarrassing, for everyone to think he'd failed as a husband. He had to stop acting like this, what was the matter with him?

"Tracey?" he said tentatively. There was a pause.

"Yeah?" she said, her back still to him.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You're right, I've been too critical. Of both of you."

He waited desperately for her to respond. She didn't say anything for a moment, but then she sighed and rolled over to face him.

"Thanks," she said quietly. She gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry I slapped you. That was a little crazy."

He laughed weakly. "It's okay."

She hesitated. "That was a really horrible thing to say earlier, that he's lucky to have survived to eight years old."

Michael closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, I was just upset."

"I know, but you say things like that all the time, you're always acting like I'm putting him in danger or something. I mean, I'm trying my best—" Her voice broke and she stopped talking.

"I know," Michael said quickly, overcome with guilt. God, he'd made her cry. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I say things like that. I just—I don't know, I'm sorry."

She sniffed. "I'm sorry, too. I overreacted earlier, I shouldn't have argued with you in front of him like that. Can we just put the whole thing behind us and pretend it didn't happen?"

"Yeah, definitely," he laughed weakly, nodding emphatically.

"Okay," she said with a small smile. He smiled back, then impulsively leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. She raised her eyebrows slightly and laughed. She hesitated, then kissed him again, longer and more tenderly this time. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, suddenly wanting more than anything to go back to how things had been when they'd first gotten married, before all this fighting and built-up resentment. He rolled over on top of her.

"Mm," she laughed in surprise. "Oh, you just wanna get laid."

He laughed. "That might be part of it," he murmured between kisses.

"Ugh, why do you have to be so damn handsome?" she groaned.

"That's right, beautiful," he laughed. "I love you. Let's not fight anymore, okay?"

She smiled. "I don't know if that's realistic."

"I know. But we can try."

"Okay."


	56. Chapter 56

_December, 1998_

"Oh no, I'm completely stuffed," Lindsay said to a waiter offering her a plate of cheese. She was at one of her and Tobias's celebrated wine and cheese fundraisers. She turned back to Teresa, the woman she'd been talking to. "Um, I forget their name, but, I know they're hungry. And I think some are thirsty."

"So horrible," Teresa said, shaking her head. "It's so good that you're doing this fundraiser."

"Thank you, that means so much to me," Lindsay said, happy to have her approval. Teresa, whom she'd met at registration for Maeby's new progressive school, was part of the crowd of important, fashionable Bostonians Lindsay was working to become a part of. Teresa's husband came over to them.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we'd better head out," he said. Teresa looked at her watch.

"Oh, you're right. Sorry, Lindsay, we probably shouldn't keep the babysitter waiting any longer."

"No problem. Thank you so much for coming," she said, wondering if she should have gotten a babysitter for Maeby, who was the same age as their son, instead of leaving her at home by herself. But she was a very independent eight-year-old.

"Of course, I'm glad we could help. Good luck with the fundraising!"

"Thank you! Good night!"

"Good night."

Lindsay watched them leave. Teresa's husband was very attractive. How did she get a guy like him? She wasn't anything special. She scanned the crowd for her own husband and saw him across the room talking enthusiastically to an equally attractive man. She rolled her eyes and went to get another glass of wine.

For a while things had been going better with Tobias—they'd both been taking Teamocil, a supplement they'd been selling that created a sense of camaraderie and, more importantly, had a side effect of decreasing your sex drive. But the other side effects had gotten so bad that they'd had to stop taking it, and now things were worse than ever. He wasn't even trying to get over being a never-nude anymore, and it had been almost two years since they'd had sex. She didn't really mind, as she could get off much more easily by herself anyway, but it was hurtful that he didn't want to have sex with her. It was pretty clear now that it wasn't just because he was afraid to be undressed—he also just wasn't attracted to her. She was almost certain that he was gay, but whenever she tried to bring it up he vehemently denied it.

Most of the time it didn't bother her that much. She kept herself busy with her fundraisers—she liked feeling like she was making a difference and meeting important people in the process, and it was nice to be able to tell them her husband was an MIT-trained psychologist. But a week ago she'd turned thirty and she was starting to panic that the rest of her life was going to be like this. She'd been dreading turning thirty for years, but it had always felt so far away. She didn't feel thirty, she didn't feel all that different from when she was a teenager. She couldn't stop thinking that she'd wasted her twenties. She'd married Tobias shortly after she turned twenty-one, and since then she'd just been floating through life and trying not to think too much about how nothing had turned out like she'd expected it to.

"Excuse me, are you Lindsay Fünke?"

Lindsay turned and saw a tall, well-dressed man with dark hair.

"Yes," she replied.

"I'm Paul Matthews," he said, shaking her hand. "I was told you were the one that organized this fundraiser?"

"Yes, that's right," she said proudly.

"You seem awfully young to be running something like this. What are you, in your twenties?"

"Twenty-eight," she lied, feeling a little thrill. Was he flirting with her? "Yes, I've been involved in things like this since college, and a few years ago I started organizing my own fundraisers."

"Wow, beautiful and talented."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Thank you," she laughed shyly, running her hand through her hair. She looked at him more closely. He was a good deal older than her, probably late forties, but he was still quite handsome.

"I work at Eastern Bank, and we've been looking to get involved in a charitable cause like this," he said.

"Oh, that's wonderful! There are so few socially conscious people in banking."

He laughed sheepishly. "I don't know if I'm among them. To be honest we're just looking for a way to improve our public image. We've had some bad press recently."

"Oh!" Lindsay laughed. "Well, either way, we'd love your help."

"Great. I'm not very familiar with the cause, I just heard about this fundraiser from a friend and decided to stop by. Can you tell me a little about it?"

"Sure, we're, uh, we're raising money to stop the hunger in…uh… Damn, I can't remember the name. Some impoverished country, you know, that kind of thing." She cursed herself. Why hadn't she done more research before she came here? But he didn't seem to be put off.

"Sounds very intriguing," he said. "I'd love to get our bank involved."

"Great! We could always use more donations."

"I was thinking more of an ongoing partnership, actually."

"Oh, sure. I mean, I'm not really affiliated with the organization, I just raise the money and send it to them."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure we can," she said, not sure what he had in mind, but she wanted to see this guy again.

"Maybe we can meet for coffee sometime to discuss the details?"

"Yes, perfect."

"Perfect. Well, here's my business card. Can I get your number?"

"Sure," she said, getting a pen and a scrap of paper out of her purse and writing down her cell phone number. She didn't want him to call the home phone and risk Tobias answering and embarrassing her.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch," he said as she handed him the paper.

"Great, see you soon," she said eagerly.


	57. Chapter 57

_January, 1999_

"So then the one-armed guy—J. Walter Weatherman was his name—he would come over to us and we'd all be screaming and he would be spewing fake blood all over the place and he'd say, 'And that's why…' and it would be some stupid lesson like not leaving the door open when the air conditioning was on or fighting with my brothers," Lindsay said. She and Paul were sitting on the couch in his living room, having come there for drinks after going to an art show together. They'd been going on little outings like this for about a month now, having completely forgotten about the partnership between her fundraising and his bank.

"Oh my god," he laughed. "And I thought my dad was strict."

"Yeah, all the guys I dated were terrified of him. I think he would threaten them when I wasn't around to keep them from trying anything."

He laughed. "I bet you had half the boys in Newport Beach going crazy," he said, giving her a little thrill. "Let me guess, in high school you were the beautiful, popular prom queen type."

"Well, I wasn't prom queen, but I did win best hair senior year."

"So did I!"

"No way!" she said, laughing loudly. She'd drunk quite a bit and was feeling a little tipsy. "Yeah, high school was fun," she mused, absentmindedly feeling the thick, soft fabric of her dress over her thigh, a long, sleek black dress with a zipper down the front. "I got married pretty soon after that."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Wow. Why so young?"

"I dunno," she sighed. "I think I was tryna prove something to my parents. They didn't like him. It was a stupid decision." She blushed at the look of surprise on his face. "Sorry, I guess that was a little personal…" she said, laughing shyly.

"No, it's okay."

"It's just, I feel like I can talk to you, you know?" she said, her voice wavering slightly. He smiled warmly.

"Good. I'm glad."

She smiled back, peering at him over the top of her glass as she took another drink. She still hadn't told Tobias about Paul, always making up some excuse whenever she went out with him. At first she'd told herself it was okay because she wouldn't let it go anywhere. She just liked spending time with this rich, handsome man who was clearly interested in her. But she was starting to hope it would go somewhere. She felt like it was justified. Tobias couldn't expect her to be celibate for the rest of her life. And she couldn't help it, she was falling in love with Paul. He made her feel beautiful and smart and interesting, and for the first time in almost a decade she felt excited about something, she wasn't just going through the motions and trying to block out all her feelings. Would it really be so bad to see how this played out?

"What about you, have you ever been married?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I guess I just haven't met the right woman yet."

"Maybe you already have and you just don't know it yet," she said tentatively. He looked over at her, making her heart jump into her throat. He laughed softly and turned away.

"Yeah, maybe."

She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. That was a stupid thing to say. She shouldn't have drunk so much, now her judgment was all screwed up. A warm shiver went through her as she wondered if that had been his intention, bringing her back to his place for drinks like this. She felt like this should offend her, but instead it just turned her on. It felt so good to have someone trying to seduce her after nine years of desperately trying to get her husband to feel something for her. She was sure that was what he was trying to do. Why else would he be spending so much time with her? She wondered how he would react if she kissed him right now. She shouldn't, she should wait for him to make the first move or she would look like a slut, and a pretty heartless one at that for betraying her husband so easily. But the thought of him laying her down on this couch right now and his strong male hands on her body was making her feel dizzy.

Paul looked up at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, it's already past ten," he sighed. "I should probably take you home now."

"Oh no, I can stay a little longer," she said, her heart sinking. The thought of going home to her cold house with her needy daughter and idiot husband was abhorrent right now.

"Your husband might wonder where you are."

"It's okay, I'll come up with an excuse," she said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush the issue away. "Besides, we don't want to let all this vodka go bad."

"Oh no, vodka doesn't—"

But before he could finish his sentence she was kissing him. He made a noise of surprise but kissed her back. She caressed his face as she kissed him, hardly believing this was actually happening after all these years. She felt his hand on the back of her head, his fingers in her hair, making her ache for him. She pulled away and started unzipping the front of her dress with shaking hands.

"Wait, what about your husband?" he said breathlessly.

"Doesn't matter," she said, and kissed him again.


	58. Chapter 58

_February, 1999_

Lindsay focused carefully on the road ahead of her as she drove to Paul's house. After almost nine years of living in Boston she'd gotten pretty adept at navigating its twisty streets, but slushy February mornings like this one still posed a challenge. She'd left her house key at Paul's earlier that morning and now she was heading there to pick it up.

Her cellphone rang. She took it out of her purse and answered it, trying to keep her eyes on the road.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hello, is this Lindsay Bluth-Fünke?" a woman said on the other end.

"Yes," she replied.

"I'm the school nurse at Boston Sunshine Academy. Your daughter just threw up and needs to be taken home."

"Right now?" Lindsay said, cursing silently.

"Um, yes, as soon as possible."

"Uh…I'm kind of busy right now. Can you just keep her there for a while?"

"Uh, we can keep her for a little while, but we do need someone to pick her up soon. Is there someone else that can?"

Lindsay sighed, wishing she hadn't answered the phone. Tobias was at work, and she couldn't tell him why she couldn't pick Maeby up anyway. "No. Okay, I'll be right over."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Bye."

She hung up. She considered going to Paul's first, but it was far away and Maeby's school was on the way anyway. She'd have to take Maeby with her and leave her in the car. It was too bad, she'd been hoping to stay a little longer as long as she was already going over there.

She and Paul had been carrying on an affair for a little over a month now. She didn't know why she hadn't done this sooner. All those years of unnecessary misery. She didn't feel guilty anymore. She felt like Tobias had married her under false pretenses anyway, not telling her he was a never-nude until after the wedding. He was lucky she hadn't divorced him after all this time. And besides, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She arrived at Maeby's school and parked, trying to avoid the puddles of slush as she got out of the car and paid for parking. She walked up the stairs to the front entrance and went inside. The school was full of plush seating and fountains and there was relaxing eastern music playing in the background. One of Lindsay's prouder parenting moments had been enrolling her daughter in this progressive school. She went to the front desk.

"Hi, my daughter Maeby is sick, I'm here to pick her up," she said to the woman there.

"Oh, yes, I'll go get her."

Lindsay waited impatiently as she left the office. She came back a moment later with Maeby.

"Here she is. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. If she throws up again she should stay home from school tomorrow."

"Got it," Lindsay said.

"Great, I just need you to sign her out," she said, pushing the sign-out sheet over to Lindsay, who quickly filled it out.

"There," Lindsay said. "Okay, let's go, sweetie," she said to Maeby, and they went back outside. "I need to stop at a friend's house before we go home, I left my house key there this morning," she said as they walked down the steps.

"Okay," Maeby said, putting on her coat.

They got into the car. Lindsay started it and drove towards Paul's.

"So how was school?" she said distractedly.

"I threw up."

"Oh. Right. Sorry about that."

"Can I stay home tomorrow?"

"Uh, I don't know…" Lindsay said, not thrilled at the possibility of having to take care of her all day. "We'll see how you're feeling. Hopefully you'll be ready to go back tomorrow."

Twenty minutes later they arrived at Paul's house. Lindsay parked the car.

"Can you just wait in the car for a little bit while I go get my key?" Lindsay said.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh, no, I'll just be a second."

"There's nothing to do out here," Maeby whined.

"I'll be right back, just be patient," Lindsay said, frazzled. She left the car and hurried up the steps and knocked on the door. She looked back at Maeby waiting in the car and smiled. Maeby glared back at her. The door opened.

"Hello, again," Paul said, smiling at her.

"Hey, baby," she said, stepping into the house. As soon as she was inside she felt better. She loved his stylish townhouse in Back Bay, the neighborhood she'd been dying to live in since she'd moved to Boston but had so far been unable to afford. She and Tobias were doing fine financially, but finding a three-bedroom home near downtown had been a challenge, and their house wasn't quite up to the standard she'd grown up with. "Sorry to bother you, it must have fallen out of my purse earlier," she said.

"No problem, it's in the kitchen."

She went to the kitchen and saw it on the counter. "Ah, thanks," she said, picking it up and putting it in her purse. "Well, I'll see you Saturday."

"You don't have to leave just yet," he said, coming up to her and hugging her from behind.

"Mm," she sighed as his hands moved to her breasts, feeling a pounding begin between her legs. Maybe she could leave Maeby in the car for another fifteen minutes… No, she'd probably come inside to see what was taking so long. "Ugh, I'd love to, but my daughter's waiting for me in the car," she said.

"Doesn't she have school?" he said, kissing her neck.

"No, she got sick and I had to pick her up early," she groaned, really going crazy now.

"Ahh, okay," he sighed, pulling away. "Guess we'll have to wait until Saturday."

"Can't wait," she said breathlessly, throwing him a flirtatious smile. She went back to the front door and opened it, cursing her luck that Maeby had to get sick today.

"Hey, kiss me goodbye," he said, following her out onto the steps and pulling her in for another kiss. She jumped and pulled away.

"My daughter's right there," she reminded him.

"Oh, sorry," he laughed. "Wouldn't want her to know what mommy's getting up to."

Lindsay laughed uncomfortably, trying not to cringe. He'd been talking about her husband and daughter a lot lately, to the point where she was starting to wonder if the fact that she was married was some kind of turn-on for him. She wished he wouldn't, as it made her feel kind of gross.

"Well, I'd better get going," she said, laughing again and hurrying down the steps.

"Okay, bye," he said.

"Bye," she called back over her shoulder. She got into her car, hoping Maeby hadn't seen him kiss her.

"Who was that?" Maeby said immediately. Lindsay cursed silently.

"Just a friend," she said quickly.

"Are you cheating on Daddy?"

"What? No, of course not," she said, surprised. Maeby was eight years old, how did she even know what cheating meant? Maeby raised her eyebrows. Lindsay sighed.

"I'm sorry you saw that. I still love your dad, it's just…yeah." She quickly started the car and headed home, extremely aware of Maeby's eyes boring into her. "Hey, um, do you think you could do me a favor and not tell Daddy about this?" she asked.

Maeby looked at her incredulously, then turned away and looked out the window. "Yeah, sure," she said sarcastically.

"Thanks," Lindsay said guiltily. "Hey, how about we stop for ice cream on the way home?"

"Double scoop?" Maeby said without missing a beat.

"Sure, whatever you want."


	59. Chapter 59

_April, 1999_

Lindsay hurried down the steps of her and Tobias's little South Boston house with her suitcase, breathing in the cool spring evening air as she went. She opened the trunk of her car and put her suitcase in, then got into the car and called Paul on her cellphone.

"Hi, Lindsay," she heard him say.

"I left him."

"What?"

"I left my husband!" she said excitedly. "Now we can be in a real relationship, we don't have to sneak around anymore!"

"Wait, Lindsay, what—what do you mean you left your husband?"

"I mean that I told him we're through, packed a suitcase, and left," she said, laughing giddily.

"But—why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?"

"I didn't know until just now, it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing."

"Don't you think you should think about this first? I mean, you've been married almost ten years, haven't you?"

"And I was miserable every second of it. I should have done this years ago," she said, almost laughing aloud at how easy it had been, after all this time.

"What about your daughter?"

"What about her?"

"Won't she be upset if you split up?"

"She'll be fine, we can take turns with her," she said, frustrated that he wasn't sharing in her excitement. "Look, I know this is the right decision, I already feel happier than I have in years," she said, only realizing after she'd said it just how true it was.

"Uh—Okay, good, that's good."

"So can I stay with you tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Now I can stay the whole night, or even longer, I don't have to rush home anymore," she said excitedly.

"Oh yeah."

"Okay, I'll be right over."

"Great."

She hesitated. "I love you," she said, her voice wavering. She hadn't said it yet for fear of scaring him off, but she had to tell him, she loved him now more than ever for saving her from this mess.

"Uh, I, uh, I love you, too," he stammered.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest, exhaling shakily. It was over, she never had to be embarrassed by Tobias again, or let him make her feel ugly and disgusting, or go through the humiliation of sleeping in a separate bedroom from her husband every goddamn night. She felt like she was hitting the reset button, leaving this whole nightmare decade behind her and going back to how she'd felt in high school, when everyone wanted to be like her and the future looked brighter than the present.

"I'll see you soon," she said unsteadily.

"Yeah, see you soon."

She smiled. "Okay, bye," she said, and hung up and drove away.


	60. Chapter 60

_April, 1999_

"Ah! Ah, yes, that's it!" Lindsay gasped as Paul thrust into her, trying to sound as convincing as she could. She was starting to feel embarrassed by how long this was taking. Paul groaned and she felt him jerk inside her as he came, a pleasurable feeling in itself but still not enough to push her over the edge.

She sighed as he rolled off of her onto the bed, trying to focus on the warm wetness on her thighs and how pleasantly sensitive she felt under the cool, soft sheets, but she couldn't block out the frustration. Thirty years old and she'd still never climaxed with a partner. She had no problem when she was on her own, what was wrong with her? Until now she'd chalked it up to the fact that her only partners had been inexperienced high school and college boys followed by nine years of Tobias, but Paul was plenty skillful and she still had to fake it every time.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of him breathing beside her, slower and slower as he drifted off into a contented daze. The sound gave her some satisfaction. At least he'd enjoyed himself, still derived some pleasure from having her here. She'd been staying with him for two weeks now and having sex with him almost every night in an attempt to keep him interested.

She turned her head to look at him lying next to her in the lamplight with his eyes closed. She rolled over onto her side and turned his face to her and kissed him softly, then pulled away and smiled. The smile he gave her in return didn't quite reach his eyes, but there had been enough tenderness in his kiss to give her some reassurance. She snuggled up to him and sighed with a warm contentedness as he wrapped his arms around her.

"This is nice, living with you like this," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he said. "You're still looking for your own place, though, right?"

"Yeah," she said quickly, trying to stifle the pain this caused her. "Yeah, I am."

"Okay," he said. They lay in silence for a moment.

"You know, when you talk like that it almost sounds like you don't want me here," she said, trying to keep her tone light and joking. He sighed exasperatedly and pulled away from her, making her flinch.

"I'm not ready to live together, I told you that," he said. "This is just temporary, while you look for your own place."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said, wishing she hadn't said anything. He looked at her. She noticed hopefully that there was a trace of guilt in his face. But then he sighed and turned away.

"I'd better get some sleep, I have work in the morning," he said, rolling over and turning off the lamp.

"Okay," she said quietly.


	61. Chapter 61

_May, 1999_

Lindsay sat in her parked car, watching the cars and people pass by her in the dark street outside as she tried to figure out where to go now.

Paul had just dumped her. She couldn't say it had been a surprise. She'd been expecting this ever since she'd left Tobias, maybe even before then. She'd just tried not to think about it, hoping against hope that she was wrong. She'd yelled at him a little and called him some nasty things, mostly just to spare what was left of her dignity, and then she'd packed her suitcase and driven away. But after driving aimlessly for a few minutes she'd realized she really had no idea where she was going to stay tonight, so she'd just parked in the closest spot she could find to give herself time to think.

She wondered if she would ever see him again. She realized with a shock that she probably wouldn't. They had no reason to contact each other again, and the odds of running into each other on the street were almost zero. She didn't really care. In fact, she was glad of it, she never wanted to see him again. Still, it was strange to think that that last glimpse of him she'd had while storming out the front door fifteen minutes ago was the last time she'd seen the man she'd pinned all her hopes on for the last four months. She thought about what he'd said, that he couldn't be what she needed and that she should go back to her husband. Asshole. Couldn't he just admit that he'd lost interest?

She felt like she should cry, but she didn't have it in her. She felt exhausted. She didn't want to go to the trouble of finding a hotel and checking in, or explain to some friend she didn't even like why she needed a place to stay tonight. She just wanted to go home. This had been it, this was her way out and it hadn't worked. She didn't want to try anymore, it wasn't worth feeling like this. She got out her cellphone and dialed the number.

"Hello, Fünke residence," she heard Tobias say in that chirpy voice of his. Now her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey, it's me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Oh, Lindsay," he said coolly. "If you want to schedule time with Maeby you're going to have to wait. We've got a whole week of father-daughter fun planned."

"No, that's—I was wondering if—if I could come home," she said weakly, wiping at the tears that were streaming down her face now.

"Oh," he said, his tone changing. "Wait, do you mean, for good?"

"Yeah, yeah, if that's okay," she stammered.

"Yeah, it's okay," he said, sounding a little stunned.

"Okay. Thanks," she said, and hung up.


	62. Chapter 62

_June, 1999_

Lindsay looked away from the TV screen as the phone rang. "Tobias, can you get that?" she called.

"Sure thing, my love," he called back. Lindsay tried not to roll her eyes. Tobias had been much more affectionate since she'd come home a month ago (verbally of course, not physically). She knew she should appreciate it, but instead it just annoyed her. It only reminded her of her disastrous attempt to leave him. She just wanted things to go back to normal as quickly as possible so she could forget it had ever happened.

"Hello, Fünke residence," she heard Tobias say in the kitchen. "Michael! How _are_ you? Oh. Yes, I'll go get her." He peered into the living room. "It's your brother, Michael."

"Yeah, I got that," she said, getting up and taking the phone from him. She was surprised Michael was calling her. They almost never talked anymore. She didn't really want to talk to him. She'd gotten over her infatuation with him years ago, but he was always so judgmental and she really didn't feel up to being judged right now.

"Hi, Michael," she said tiredly as Tobias left the kitchen.

"Hey, I, uh, I need to talk to you," he said. He sounded very out of it.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said, surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. Yeah. Tracey has cancer."

"What?"

"We just found out. I mean, for sure, she did some tests before but they weren't conclusive."

"Wait, what do you mean—are you sure?"

"Yeah, she just had a biopsy, it's stage three ovarian cancer."

Lindsay's eyes widened. "Stage three, that's—that's bad, isn't it?" she said, then realized that may not have been the right thing to say.

"Uh, it is advanced, but she's going to have surgery, and chemo, we'll do everything. And we're not actually sure yet if it's stage three, it just looks like it. We won't know for sure until she has the surgery."

"So it's not—it's not terminal, then?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "I mean, at this stage the five-year survival rate is thirty-nine percent, but most people with this are in their fifties or sixties. She's only twenty-nine, and otherwise healthy. And that's five years or more, it includes people that are completely cured. And like I said, she'll have surgery, that will cut out most of the tumor, and the chemo will take care of the rest. God, we haven't told George Michael yet, I don't know how we're going to tell him."

Lindsay let him keep talking, struggling to pay attention. She was still fixating on that number, thirty-nine percent.

"Are you going to say anything?" Michael said, his voice breaking.

"Uh, I don't—oh my god, I'm so sorry," she stammered, panicking. What was she supposed to say?

"Thanks," he said, suddenly sounding embarrassed, and still a little disoriented. "Uh, sorry, I'd better go, I don't really know why I called."

"Oh, okay," she said, surprised. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Thank you. Bye."

She heard the phone click off.


	63. Chapter 63

_July, 1999_

Michael glanced over at Tracey in the passenger seat as he stopped behind traffic. She was sitting in the bright sunlight, resting her face on her hand and looking blankly out the window. They'd taken George Michael out of school for the day and the three of them were on their way to the hospital for her hysterectomy. Michael was trying not to worry—in all likelihood she would be fine and she needed the surgery if she was going to make it through this—but he couldn't stop thinking that something might go wrong and these could be his last few hours with her. Tracey and George Michael seemed to be just as nervous. Other than the sounds of the traffic outside, the car was dead silent.

Michael looked back at George Michael, who was also looking out the window with an anxious expression on his face. They hadn't told him the full extent of the risks of the surgery and the illness in general, wanting to spare him from unnecessary worrying, but he seemed to have guessed from their recent behavior that it wasn't as safe as they'd made it sound.

"Hey, George Michael," Michael said, partly just to break the silence. "One of my coworkers told me about this great bike path around Lake Balboa, I was thinking you and I could go try it this weekend. Does that sound like fun?"

"Can Mom come too?"

"Oh, well, she'll still be recovering from the surgery, but we can tell her all about it. Right, Trace?"

"What?" she said, looking over at him.

"I was telling him about that bike path," he said. She'd agreed before that it was a good idea to do something with George Michael over the weekend to take his mind off of everything that was happening.

"Oh yeah, have fun," she said distractedly, and lapsed back into silence.

Tracey had been very quiet since her diagnosis, especially when it came to the subject of her cancer. She only mentioned it when she needed to schedule doctor appointments, and even then she skirted around the topic as much as possible. Michael was going along with this, guessing that she was trying to keep things as normal as she could. He was feeling the same way. He'd gotten somewhat used to it now, but whenever he remembered that only a few weeks ago they'd had no idea this was going to happen he felt so angry, though he didn't know who he was angry at. He wanted so much for all of this to go away, to wake up and realize it had all been a bad dream. He was confident that she would make it through this—he knew the chances weren't good at this stage, but she had everything else going for her, she was young and healthy and determined to do whatever it took to get better. But it still meant putting all of their plans on hold and Tracey having to go through intensive surgery and chemotherapy, and it would be years before things returned to normal.

"Hey, Michael, I just realized I left my folder for one of my clients at home," Tracey said. "Do you think you could go back and get it for me so I can work on it afterwards?"

"You're going to work right after the surgery?"

"Yeah, I don't want to fall behind while I'm gone."

"Don't worry about that, I'm sure your boss will understand—"

"Can you just get the folder?" she snapped.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said, surprised.

"I'm not looking for your opinion, I'm just asking you to get it for me."

"Yeah, sorry," he said quickly. "Which folder is it?"

"The red one. I think I left it on the nightstand."

"Got it, red folder, nightstand."

"Thanks," she said, sounding a little guilty. She turned away and resumed looking out the window.


	64. Chapter 64

_October, 1999_

Lindsay looked nervously around the conference room at everywhere but across the table from her, where Michael was sitting. She was in Los Angeles for the week to help with the newly-formed Bluth Foundation's first fundraiser, an attempt by her father to improve the Bluth Company's public image. The family was gathered in the conference room to decide upon a cause. Lindsay had voted for herpes. She'd contracted it while sleeping around during her senior year of high school and she was hoping the money they raised might help find a cure.

At the moment she was struggling to avoid eye contact with Michael. She hadn't talked to him since he'd told her Tracey had cancer. She'd felt like she'd handled the news so badly that she hadn't wanted to talk to him again. She'd convinced herself it was okay since it wasn't like there was anything she could say or do to help, and they'd talked very rarely before anyway. But the cold look he'd given her when she arrived at the meeting had immediately told her she was wrong, and now she was feeling extremely guilty and uncomfortable and hoping she could escape the meeting without having to talk to him.

George Sr. pulled one of the slips of paper out of the jar. "Herpes…" he read. He pulled out another one. "Shrinkage…" He chuckled. "Somebody saw _Seinfeld_ last night. Neck flap… Ovarian cancer, gee, I wonder who that was. Another one for neck flap."

"Yes," Buster said, looking up from his video game and nodding.

"Well, I'll be honest, I haven't heard anything that beats herpes," Lindsay said.

"Neck flap got more votes!" Lucille argued.

"Yes, that was the rule, the cause with the most votes wins!" Buster agreed.

"I don't know if raising money for neck flap will help with our image problem," George Sr. said.

"What about ovarian cancer?" Michael said indignantly. "That's a real cause that will help with our image!"

"Everyone knows your wife has cancer, it will look self-interested," George Sr. said.

"And herpes and neck flap aren't self-interested?"

"Hey, I haven't heard any arguments against shrinkage," Gob sniggered. Michael looked at him incredulously, then stood up.

"That's it, I'm done. Do whatever you want, I'm out of the fundraiser. Good luck pulling it off without me. I don't know if it will help with the company's image but I'm sure it will be memorable," he said, and left the room.


	65. Chapter 65

_October, 1999_

Lindsay stood fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror. They'd just concluded the meeting. They hadn't been able to agree upon a cause, so they'd decided to just go ahead and start planning the fundraiser and choose the cause later. She wondered if she should have stood up for Michael. She had felt sorry for him seeing their father shoot him down like that, especially considering everything that he was going through. But she was entitled to her own vote, and it wasn't like their little fundraiser was going to cure cancer, anyway. And that was a little over the line for him to imply that her vote meant she actually had herpes. Still, she hoped he wouldn't be even angrier at her now.

She left the bathroom and walked over to the elevator. It was a Saturday and the building was empty. She pressed the down button and waited. She heard a door open behind her and turned around. She jumped when she saw Michael coming out of his office.

"Oh, hi," she said nervously. "I thought you already left."

"Yeah, I decided to get some work done since I was already here," he said. She hoped she was imagining the edge in his voice. The elevator doors opened and they went in. Lindsay quickly pressed the button, cursing her luck. They stood in silence until she couldn't bear it any longer.

"So how are you doing?" she asked tentatively. He looked up at her.

"How do you think, Lindsay?"

She flinched. "Sorry, that was a stupid question."

"Don't worry about it," he said sarcastically as the elevator doors opened, and quickly walked away.


	66. Chapter 66

_July, 2000_

"That was really fun," Michael said as he drove George Michael home from their now-weekly bike ride, struggling to put some enthusiasm into his voice. It had been a long week. "This is turning into a good weekend tradition, don't you think?"

"Yeah," George Michael agreed, less convincingly than Michael would have liked. He'd been trying to take George Michael out for fun activities like this whenever he could to take his mind off things and give Tracey a little time with the house to herself so she could rest.

"Dad?" George Michael said.

"What?"

"How is Mom doing?"

Michael looked over at him, surprised. "She's fine," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to make sure," he said, breaking Michael's heart. He smiled at him reassuringly.

"Don't worry, she's going to be fine," he said. "You know your mom, she can do anything she sets her mind to."

"Okay," George Michael said, though he still looked worried.

Michael wondered if he'd noticed any change in their moods recently. A few days ago Tracey had gotten her latest scan results, which had shown that after some initial success her cancer was no longer responding to the chemotherapy. They were in the process of signing her up for a clinical trial and were hopeful that she would have more success with that, but it had still been a significant blow to their optimism. This wasn't part of the plan, he'd been sure the surgery and chemo would be enough. It didn't make any sense. She was thirty years old, she shouldn't have deal with this in the first place, and now the treatment wasn't even working? And she'd been through so much, she'd lost all her hair and had to quit her job because the chemotherapy was making her so sick all the time, and it hadn't even helped.

He guiltily wondered if they should have told George Michael about the scan results. Their family counselor had warned him and Tracey that they needed to be more honest with him so he wouldn't be blindsided if things took a turn for the worst. But he was barely ten years old, and neither of them could bring themselves to make him more scared than he already was, especially when it might be unnecessary.


	67. Chapter 67

_March, 2001_

Michael walked down the steps of George Michael's friend's house to his car, having just dropped George Michael off for a sleepover. He and Tracey were friends with the parents and they had invited George Michael over to help them out. They didn't really need a break since George Michael was about as easy to take care of as a ten-year-old could be, but they'd accepted the invitation in an effort to keep him socially involved. He'd become increasingly withdrawn as his mother's condition worsened and they were starting to worry about him.

He got into the car. As he closed the door he felt that combination of overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion that had been unexpectedly hitting him every so often over the last year. He tried his best to ignore it and started the car. He didn't want to think about that right now. He pulled out of the driveway and started driving home.

It had been almost a year since the chemo had stopped working. They'd tried several clinical trials now but none of them had worked, and her oncologist was starting to talk about weighing the costs to quality of life against the potential benefits of continuing treatment. They hadn't even considered it—as long as there was a chance something could work they were going to keep trying. But with each scan result it was getting harder to stay optimistic.

He arrived at their house and got out of the car and went inside. He could hear country music playing in the bedroom. He went in and saw Tracey sitting on the bed listening to the radio, a glass of vodka in her hand. She jumped when he came in.

"Oh, you're back already," she said, her words a little slurred. Michael looked at the glass of vodka with surprise. After her diagnosis she'd made a lot of lifestyle changes to try to stay healthy, including quitting drinking. That one was especially important, as alcohol could interfere with the drugs she was taking and increase the side effects.

"Sorry," she said, her face filling with shame. "I know I said I'd stop. I just really need a drink right now."

"It's okay," Michael said automatically, just so she would stop looking so guilty. "One time probably won't make a difference." He didn't know if that was true, but he felt bad that it seemed like she'd been trying to hide it from him and he'd just noticed that her eyes were red like she'd been crying.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "This is the first time I have."

He sat down on the bed with her. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Okay," she said. "This treatment's not as bad as the last one, I don't feel so nauseous anymore."

"Good. That's really good," he said emphatically.

Tracey nodded, then smiled wryly at him. "You wanna join me?" she said, gesturing toward the bottle of vodka on the desk.

Michael laughed. "Sure."

"Here, you can have the rest of this, I probly shouldn't have anymore," she said, handing her glass to him. He took it and took a drink.

A new song started on the radio, a slow, sentimental one sung by a deep southern voice. Tracey leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Michael wrapped his arm around her, surprised. It had been a long time since she'd shown him any physical affection. She'd become increasingly distant over the last year, always wanting to be alone and snapping at him over little things. He understood why, but it was hard to have her pushing him away all the time, especially when he was so worried about her.

Tracey lifted her head and kissed him, the sort of sloppy, open-mouthed kiss she hadn't given him in almost two years. He laughed in surprise and kissed her back, setting his glass down on the nightstand. She sat up and put her hands on his face, kissing him with more intensity.

"Mm," he said, pretending to be more into it than he was. The truth was that he wasn't feeling very attracted to her at the moment with her bald head and tired, makeup-free face, but he didn't want her to know that, and the sudden affection was a pleasant surprise.

She pulled away. "Ugh, I feel so unattractive. Can you get my wig?"

"Sure," he said, getting up and going to the closet. "You're plenty attractive already, though."

She laughed. "That's a lie, but I appreciate it.

Michael got her wig from the closet. They'd bought this one about six months ago after the first one had gotten worn out. Tracey had once again insisted on spending less than two hundred dollars and they hadn't been able to find one in the right color. The style was right, long and curly, but the color was more brown than red, and despite the care she'd taken this one was beginning to show some signs of wear as well. He knew it didn't matter, but it had been hard when she'd lost her hair. He'd always loved her bright red curls.

He returned to the bed and gave the wig to her. She put it on and straightened it.

"There," she said. "And now…" She climbed on top of him and kissed him again. Michael laughed, still not feeling particularly turned on but enjoying the playful intimacy nonetheless, and the way her accent was coming back as it always did when she was drunk. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed this. Tracey slid her hands down his body and started unbuckling his belt.

"Mm," he said in surprise as she took it off. They hadn't had sex since her diagnosis. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, doctor said six months after surgery, so we're good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said, sounding a little annoyed, and kissed him again. He kissed her back uncertainly. He was still afraid of hurting her, and he didn't really see her that way anymore, their relationship had changed so much. She didn't seem all that into it either, just desperate.

"You get on top," she said.

"Okay," he laughed, a little turned on by that. He rolled on top of her and kissed her again, trying to focus on her body. He still loved how her soft, delicate frame felt underneath him. He kissed her neck and then her breasts and all down her body, trying to make her feel sexy. She wasn't responding like she used to, the tension in her body seemed to come more from nervousness than arousal. He wondered if he should ask again if she was sure about this, but he didn't want to annoy her again, so he proceeded to unbutton her jeans, trying to ignore her surgery scar as he did. She sat up and helped him pull them off along with her underwear, then lay back down as he climbed between her legs and began to lick her, nice and slow to make her feel like he was savoring the taste of her. He was starting to feel turned on now, it had been so long and he had always liked doing this, how it made her go crazy like nothing else. She didn't seem to be enjoying it much at the moment though, lying there indifferently and dry as a bone. He wondered if the drugs she was taking were affecting her sex drive. He heard her groan. At first he felt encouraged, thinking it had been a groan of pleasure, but then he realized it had been out of frustration.

"Just…just stop, it's not…I'm just not feeling it," she said.

"Oh. Okay," Michael said, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. He got up and lay down next to her as she pulled her jeans back on.

She sighed. "Well, that was kinda sad."

"Yeah," Michael laughed weakly. "Sorry."

"Oh no, it's not your fault," she said quickly, laughing. "No, I'm just…I think it must be the drugs, or maybe the surgery, they said it might mess with my hormones or something. Sorry, I know it's been awhile."

"Don't worry about that," Michael said quickly. "Trust me, it's the last thing on my mind."

She smiled. "Thanks." She turned away and looked up at the ceiling. "Damn it," she whispered. Michael saw that her eyes were shining with tears.

"What's wrong?" he said concerned.

She laughed and wiped her eyes. "Nothing, I just…really wanted this to work."

"We can still cuddle," he suggested. She laughed.

"Yeah, okay," she said, snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him as she rested her head on his chest.

"So how are you doing?" he asked quietly. He felt her exhale slowly.

"Not great," she said. "I'm so tired of all these bad scan results. I just keep finding out over and over again that I wasted even more time with something that didn't even work."

Michael closed his eyes. He'd been feeling the same way, though neither of them had voiced this thought to each other before. "Well, I guess each time you're narrowing it down, right?" he said. "You're getting closer to finding the one that works, so it wasn't a waste of time."

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, that's a good way to think about it."

Michael smiled, glad he'd come up with something reassuring to say. And it was true, there still might be something out there that would work, and the more treatments she tried the more likely it was that she would find it. He thought about what it would feel like to finally get some good news, for her to be cured and for them to go through the rest of their lives thinking of these few years as just a short, horrible chapter that had ended like everything else. He pushed the thought from his mind. He didn't want to get his hopes up too much. He still didn't believe he was going to lose her, but he didn't feel like things would ever go back to how they'd been before either. All he could see in front of him was an endless cycle of failed treatments, and though he knew it had to end one way or another, at the moment it didn't feel like it ever would.


	68. Chapter 68

_June, 2001_

Michael lay in the dark bedroom, waiting for Tracey to join him. He could hear her throwing up in the bathroom. Her last treatment hadn't worked and she'd just started a new, particularly aggressive one. He'd never seen her so sick. For the first time he was beginning to doubt if it was the right decision. He still didn't want to accept that she might not make it through this, but he was running out of reasons to think she would. He didn't know what to do. He knew if she stopped treatment there was no hope left that she would survive this, but he was starting to feel terrified that she was going to die no matter what they did and they were only wasting the time she had left, or maybe even shortening it, it couldn't be good for her to be putting all this poison into her body when it wasn't having any effect on the cancer. He'd never brought up the possibility of stopping treatment with her before, afraid to acknowledge out loud that it might be time to give up, but he was starting to think maybe he should, or at least make it clear that it was up to her. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he found out she'd continued longer than she should have because she'd thought he and George Michael wanted her to.

Tracey stepped into the bedroom and wordlessly got into bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said tiredly. They lay in silence for a while as Michael tried to find the right words. It was still hard to get up the courage to say it.

"Tracey?" he said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "I just want to make sure you know that…if you want to stop treatment it's okay, it's your decision."

"What?" she said softly. She sounded horrified.

"I just mean it's up to you, you don't have to feel guilty or anything if that's what you want to do," he said quickly.

"No. No, I don't want to," she whispered. She sounded almost betrayed.

"Okay, that's fine," he said, wishing he hadn't said anything. She sounded really shaken.

"There's still a chance this one could work," she said weakly.

"Yeah, I agree, I think it's worth a shot. I just wanted to make sure it's what you want to do."

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay," he said, and they lapsed once more into silence.


	69. Chapter 69

_June, 2001_

Michael impatiently checked the clock on the desk in his office. Tracey was getting her latest scan results right now and he was waiting for her to call him to tell him how it went. Normally he would have gone with her, but his father had finally put his foot down about Michael missing work to go to these appointments, threatening to cut off the money he'd been giving them for Tracey's hospital bills. His comment about how it was like 'pouring money down a sinkhole' had almost been enough to make Michael tell him to go to hell and quit his job all over again, but he and Tracey had really come to depend on his parents' money in the last year so he'd held his tongue.

He looked at the clock again. Her appointment had ended six minutes ago. She should be calling him any second now. He tried to prepare himself for bad news as he always did when waiting to hear her scan results, but he'd never really gotten the hang of it. He always just ended up praying desperately for good news.

He jumped as his cell phone rang and quickly took it out of his pocket. He saw her name on the caller ID and answered it.

"Hey, how'd it go?" he said.

"Um, badly," she said haltingly. "It, um, the tumor grew by ten percent." Michael closed his eyes, feeling all the energy rush out of him. "Can I come see you at your office?" she continued shakily. "I want to talk to you in person."

"Yeah, yeah, come right over," he said quickly.

"Okay. I'll be there in about twenty minutes," she said, and hung up.


	70. Chapter 70

_June, 2001_

Michael stood in the parking garage waiting for Tracey to arrive. He checked the time on his watch. She should be there soon, it had been almost twenty minutes. He looked up at the sound of a car coming around the corner and recognized Tracey's car. He hurried over to where she parked.

"Tracey," he breathed as she got out of the car. He hugged her. She hugged him back, clinging to him tightly.

"I talked to Dr. Booker," she said shakily. "I think it's time to stop treatment, it's not doing any good."

It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He'd been thinking it for weeks now, that it was probably the best decision at this point, but now that she was saying it out loud he wasn't so sure. He felt a little unsteady. She pulled away.

"I just want to feel healthy for a little while, you know, before things get worse," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "The treatment's not buying me any time."

"Yeah," Michael said weakly. It felt like someone else was saying it. "That makes sense."

"She says if I go into hospice care I'll probably have about five or six months left," she continued, her voice faltering. Michael's breath caught in his throat. Five or six months, god, this was really happening. "Do you think it's the right decision?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Yeah," he said, his own vision blurring. He still felt like it wasn't him talking, he wasn't ready to give up, but some part of him knew she needed reassurance right now. "Yeah, like you said, it's not doing any good."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'll call Dr. Booker and tell her."


	71. Chapter 71

_November, 2001_

"How was school today?" Michael asked George Michael as the family sat around the table eating their dinner.

"Good," George Michael said.

"How was English?" he asked. George Michael's grades had been slipping in English.

"Good. He spent most of the time talking about the spelling bee."

"There's a spelling bee?"

"Yeah."

"You should do it, you're good at spelling," Michael said eagerly. Their family counselor had recommended that George Michael get involved in more extracurricular activities.

"I don't know…" George Michael said reluctantly.

"It will be fun, I'll help you prepare. He should sign up, right, Tracey?"

"What?" she said distractedly, looking up from the salad she'd been half-heartedly picking at.

"There's a spelling bee at his school, I was telling him he should sign up."

"Oh yeah, that would be great."

"Okay, I will," George Michael said, though he still didn't look very enthusiastic.

"Great," Michael said. "It will be really fun, you'll see." He noticed Tracey was breathing heavily and quickly. "You okay, Trace?" he said, concerned. The cancer had recently spread to her lungs and she'd been having trouble breathing.

"Yeah," she said.

"Do you want me to get the fan?" Sometimes putting a fan in front of her face helped.

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay," Michael said uncertainly. She always seemed a little reluctant to ask for help.

She'd gone into hospice care five months ago. They'd opted for home care, meaning Michael took care of most of her needs and a team of doctors, nurses, and counselors visited throughout the week. In the first few months of it Michael had felt confident that they'd made the right decision. It had been such a relief to see her feeling somewhat healthy again. For the first time in two years she'd had the energy to do more than sit around the house, and they'd gone on regular outings to restaurants and the beach and even Disneyland to spend some time together as a family in the months they had left. Things had felt closer to normal than they had since she'd started chemotherapy. He and Tracey had even somewhat revived their sex life for a brief period of time. Her hair had started to grow back too, though it was only about two inches long and not as bright as before.

But now that her health was rapidly deteriorating he was starting to have doubts. He knew it was probably irrational, but he couldn't stop wondering if the next treatment would have worked, or at least prolonged her life by a few months. It had gone so fast. And it wasn't the same as it used to be. She'd become so withdrawn, spending all of her time reading or watching TV, and she was exhausted and buzzed on pain medicine most of the time. Sometimes she would try to spend some quality time with him and George Michael, but he could always tell it was taking a lot of effort and that she was only doing it because she felt like she had to.

George Michael had taken the news that she was going into hospice care very badly. They both felt incredibly guilty for not being more honest about Tracey's condition so he would be prepared, but they'd both been so in denial that they'd convinced themselves there was no reason to. George Michael had become even more withdrawn than his mother since then. It was nearly impossible to get him to talk about how he was feeling. He always eagerly accepted whenever Tracey wanted to read to him or play a board game, though, and he often offered to help Michael with any of the caregiving duties an eleven-year-old could do.

Tracey's mother had come to visit her a few weeks ago. She hadn't called Tracey after her diagnosis, something Michael could tell had been very painful for Tracey, since she knew her aunt had told her about it. But Tracey had been too proud to call her, so their twelve-year silence had continued for another two. But once Tracey started hospice care her mother called her, and they'd arranged for her to visit. It sounded like she hadn't been aware of how serious her condition was until then. It had been very awkward meeting the mother of the woman he'd been married to for almost twelve years for the first time, who looked just like an older, dark-haired version of Tracey. She'd seemed even more uncomfortable than he was, always fidgeting and looking around the room, especially when she'd met George Michael. But after their initial meeting she'd only visited Tracey when he was at work, and two weeks later she'd gone back to Alturas. It sounded like Tracey had gotten angry and blown up at her during one of her visits and that was why she'd left, but it was hard to discern anything concrete from the little that Tracey told him. She seemed to be relieved that she'd seen her mother one more time, though, even if it hadn't been the warmest reunion.

Michael noticed Tracey's breathing had become more labored.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah," she choked, but her breathing only became more strained. She gripped the edge of the table.

"Mom?" George Michael said nervously. She didn't respond, she just continued to gasp for breath. Michael's blood turned cold.

"Get the phone," he said to George Michael as he rushed over to Tracey. He stood there helplessly, having no idea what to do. All he could think of was getting the fan, but it didn't seem like enough and he was afraid to leave her side. He looked up and saw George Michael watching her, frozen in fear. "Go!" he said frantically. George Michael got up and ran to the phone. "It's okay, I'm going to call for help," Michael said desperately. Tracey just kept on gasping for air, her face terrified.


	72. Chapter 72

_December, 2001_

Michael walked through the hospital corridor to Tracey's room, carrying flowers and a present. After her attack they'd made the difficult decision to have her hospitalized. It was hard on all of them for her to be away from home, but they needed to have doctors nearby at all times in case something went wrong again. Thankfully the hospital was close to their house and Michael and George Michael could visit her throughout the day. George Sr. had reluctantly let Michael use all his vacation time for the next year so he could spend more time with her. Tonight was their anniversary and Michael had dropped George Michael off at his parents' house and come to visit her.

He reached Tracey's room and knocked on the door, hoping she was awake.

"Come in," he heard her say. He opened the door and saw happily that she was sitting up and reading and looking more alert than usual. She smiled when she saw him and set her book down.

"Oh, hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "Happy anniversary."

"Oh, I forgot!"

"Don't worry about it," he laughed, sitting on the chair next to her bed.

"Those are beautiful," she said, looking at the flowers.

He grinned. "Just like you."

She laughed. "Oh _my_." He laughed, too. "There's a vase in the cabinet over there," she said, pointing.

"Okay," he said, setting the present down on the chair and going to the cabinet.

"I've gotten so many flowers I've had to start keeping spare vases on hand," she said as he filled the vase with water in the sink. "These are the best, though," she added, seeming to realize that may have sounded ungrateful. He laughed.

"Really," he said, looking at her over his shoulder.

"By far," she laughed.

He laughed too and returned to her bed, setting the flowers down on the bedside table.

"Looks like you got me a present, too," she said.

"Yeah," he said, handing her the box. "It might be the strangest anniversary present I've given you, but…"

She unwrapped the box and opened it.

"Oh, it's a wig," she said. "And it's red!"

"Yeah, I found one," he said, grinning.

"Wow, the color's perfect!"

"Yeah, and I know it's straight, but it's human hair so you can curl it if you want."

"Oh my god, how much did you spend on this?"

"Don't worry about that," he said. He'd spent over fifteen hundred dollars, wanting to go all out for what would in all likelihood be his last anniversary gift to her. She looked a little worried. His heart sank. He hoped this hadn't been another misstep. But then she smiled.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm going to go look at it in the mirror." She slowly climbed out of her bed. Michael stood up to help her. "Thanks," she said, leaning against him for support. He helped her to the sink. She put the wig on and straightened it and adjusted the cap. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Michael smiled, too. She looked more like she used to.

"Oh, thank you so much, I love it," she said with genuine emotion. Michael kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry I forgot," she said.

"It's fine, really."

She smiled. "Okay, let's go back to the bed," she said. He helped her back. She got into the bed with difficulty and scooted over to make room for him. "Here, sit with me," she said. He got into the bed with her. There wasn't much room for both of them but he didn't mind, he liked being close to her. "Where's George Michael?" she asked.

"At my parents'."

"That's nice," she said. "How do you think he's doing?"

"Uh…I think he's doing okay," he said hesitantly. "Well, you know, it's hard for him."

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"He loves coming to see you, though, he's always asking to."

"Oh," she said, her eyes filling with tears. She smiled and wiped them away. "That's really sweet. Are you going to bring him here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I was thinking after school?"

"Perfect."

She leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around her.

"Twelve years," she said softly.

"Yeah," he said, smiling.

"We were just kids when we got married."

Michael laughed, remembering her telling him she was pregnant in the stairway of his dorm in Berkeley, how terrified they'd both been.

"I'm sorry we fought so much," she said, her voice breaking. Michael looked down at her and saw that there were tears in her eyes.

"No," he said quickly. "No, don't apologize for that. That was as much my fault as yours. More, probably."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I just—I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, his own eyes filling with tears. He didn't like this, it sounded like she was trying to get all this out before she died. "I love you, too. So much."

She let out a sob and leaned against him again, wrapping her arms around him. "I just wish I had more time. It went so fast."

"Me too," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"I shouldn't have given up so fast."

"What?"

"I'm not ready, I—I can't leave George Michael, and you—" She broke off. She was getting really worked up now.

"Tracey, it wouldn't have worked."

"It might have bought me some more time," she said weakly.

"It wouldn't have," he said firmly. "It was only making you sicker, it would have made it worse."

She didn't say anything for a while. The only sound was her short, shallow breaths. Her breathing had gotten worse in the last two weeks.

"You'll take good care of George Michael?" she finally said.

"Yes, of course."

"Don't be too hard on him, you know, with his grades and things like that."

"I know, I won't," he said, struggling not to feel hurt by this.

"Sorry, I know you'll take good care of him, it's just—it's hard leaving him behind."

"I know," he said. It broke his heart to think about George Michael losing his mother so young. He didn't know how to help him through it, he felt like he was doing such a bad job already. And he couldn't picture their family without Tracey. He didn't know if it would even feel like a family anymore with only two people. All those years they'd been married before her diagnosis he'd never thought it would end like this. He'd thought they would grow old together, at times he'd thought they might get divorced, but he'd never imagined that in a few years she would be gone completely.

He realized Tracey's body had gone slack and she was breathing more slowly and rhythmically, asleep. He looked down at her. He didn't want to go home yet, he couldn't stand to be in the house without her. It felt so empty, and he couldn't stop thinking that this was how it was going to be from now on. He took his phone out of his pocket and texted his mother, " _can gm spend the night with u_." He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he waited for a response, enjoying the warmth of Tracey's body against him. A few minutes later his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and saw his mother's reply, " _yes_." He texted back his thanks and set the phone down on the bedside table, then carefully shifted so that he was lying down. Tracey stirred.

"Oh," she said confusedly. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"It's fine," he said. "I'm going to sleep here tonight, if it's okay."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "Yeah."

She took off her wig and set it carefully on the bedside table, then turned off the lamp. She lay back down and smiled at him in the darkness. He smiled back and kissed her.

"Love you," he said softly.

"Love you, too," she whispered. She scooted closer to him and rested her head on his chest. "Good night," she said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Good night."


	73. Chapter 73

_January, 2002_

Michael walked through the now-familiar hospital corridor, carrying a box of sno balls, which were still Tracey's favorite food after all these years. It was a cloudy afternoon and he was visiting her before picking up George Michael from school. He reached her room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he heard her say. She sounded tired. He opened the door. She was slumped on the bed watching TV. She looked over at him as he came in.

"Look what I brought," he said, showing her the box.

She laughed. "Sno balls."

"And these are even special white ones for winter."

"Oh…That's sweet of you, but I'm not really hungry right now."

"Oh, okay," he said, disappointed. He set them on the counter. "I'll leave them here in case you want them later."

"Okay."

He sat down on the chair by her bed, looking at her concernedly. She was barely eating anything now. He knew a loss of appetite was normal for someone in her condition, but she was getting really thin now and it was starting to worry him. The last thing she needed was to be malnourished on top of everything else. He'd brought it up with her a few times but it hadn't done any good, and he didn't want to fight about it.

"So I've been helping George Michael prepare for the spelling bee," he said. "He's been getting really good. I think he has a shot at winning."

She smiled. "That's great."

"Do you want me to bring him over later?"

"Uh, yeah… How about this evening?"

"Sure."

She turned back to the TV. He looked up and saw that she was watching a _Seinfeld_ rerun.

"Oh yeah, this is a good one," he said, recognizing the episode. She didn't say anything. He looked uncomfortably at his watch. It wasn't time to leave to pick up George Michael yet, but she clearly didn't feel up to talking right now. He decided to leave early.

"Well, I'd better go get George Michael."

"Okay."

"See you this evening," he said, getting up and kissing her on the cheek. "Love you."

She smiled, though it was more of a grimace. He turned and left the room.


	74. Chapter 74

_January, 2002_

Michael sat in his car in the parking lot of George Michael's school, languidly playing Snake on his cell phone. The leaves on the trees outside were rustling in the wind and the sky was pale gray. He'd arrived at the school about twenty minutes early and he was feeling very bored and a little guilty about leaving Tracey so much sooner than he'd planned. Her condition was worsening every day and every minute with her was precious, but she clearly hadn't wanted him there. He wondered if he should still visit her tonight. It had seemed like she'd only agreed out of guilt. But she was expecting them now, so he should probably go. He'd try to cut the visit short if she still didn't seem up to it. She usually made more of an effort when George Michael was there, not wanting to upset him by letting on how sick she was, but Michael could tell how taxing it had gotten for her.

He heard the school bell ring and shortly afterwards the students began filtering out of the building. A few minutes later he saw George Michael walking towards the car.

"Hi," Michael said to him as he got in.

"Hi."

"How was school?" he asked as he backed out of the parking space and slowly navigated his way through the chaotic after-school traffic.

"Good."

"Good," Michael said, disappointed by his short response. He hadn't always been so quiet. He'd changed so much since Tracey's diagnosis two and a half years ago. "Your mother wants to see you later," he said, making it out of the parking lot and heading home. "I was thinking we could go over after dinner."

"Yeah, sure," George Michael said with more enthusiasm. He was always eager to visit Tracey.

Michael's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm a member of the house staff at Sherman Oaks Hospital," a woman said on the other end. "Is this Michael Bluth?"

"Yes," he said apprehensively, his heart beating faster.

"Is your wife Tracey Bluth?"

"Yes, what's going on, is she okay?" he said quickly.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news." Michael's stomach dropped. No, no, no, not yet. "Your wife has just slipped into a coma, we need you to come to the hospital as soon as you can."

"Dad, what's going on?" George Michael said anxiously.

Michael made an abrupt U-turn and started speeding towards the hospital.

"Dad!"

"What's going on, is she going to be okay?" Michael said frantically, the world spinning.

"We're doing everything we can. We need you to come here—"

"I'm on my way right now, please, she'll come out of it, won't she?"

"Dad, please," George Michael said, his eyes full of tears.

"Jesus!" Michael said, seeing a car slam on the brakes to his right as he went through an intersection, realizing he'd gone through a stop sign.

"I can't say at this point," the woman was saying. "Come to the ICU when you arrive. When do you think you'll get here?"

"Five minutes, please help her, I need to talk to her," he begged.

"We're doing everything we can," she said again.

"Oh, god," he said. He'd just be talking to her half an hour ago, he couldn't lose her yet, he wasn't ready, he needed to talk to her one more time.


	75. Chapter 75

_January, 2002_

"Michael!"

Michael turned to see Tracey's aunt Sandy coming towards him. The funeral service had just ended and Michael was thanking Tracey's friends and coworkers for coming while Gob tried to cheer George Michael up by showing him some magic tricks. Sandy gave him a hug. Michael awkwardly hugged her back, caught off guard.

"That eulogy was beautiful," she said, pulling away and dabbing at her eyes.

"Thank you," Michael said, feeling a flicker of annoyance at her leopard-print dress. That wasn't appropriate for a funeral.

"Tracey was so lucky she found you," Sandy continued. "Before she met you she was really struggling, I remember, she would get so quiet and sad. But then she met you and all of that changed."

"Thank you," Michael said, not sure what to say to that. He knew Tracey had had some emotional struggles growing up, but he thought it was going to college and cutting off contact with her mother that had helped her out of it, not meeting him.

"I'm so sorry Carol's not here," she said. Carol was Tracey's mother. "She was really devastated when she heard, I think she was just too embarrassed to come."

"It's okay," Michael said, though it wasn't. He'd been seething with anger over the fact that Tracey's mother hadn't come to her funeral.

"She really did love her," Sandy said, her eyes filling with tears again. "She just wasn't ready to be a mother, but she loved her, I know she did."

"I know," Michael said, feeling overwhelmed. "I, uh, I'm going to step out for a second. Bathroom."

"Oh, okay. It was so nice to see you."

"Thanks, you too," he said, and quickly walked away. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the room into the empty hallway. He walked aimlessly through the building, trying to get as far away from everyone else as possible.

He should have been nicer to Sandy. Tracey had always appreciated having one family member left who cared about her. He'd find her again when he went back and tell her that, but right now he just needed a break. He found a bench and sat on it, then leaned his head back against the wall and sighed in exhaustion.

Tracey had died five days ago. She'd never come out of the coma. The doctors had said there was no chance of recovery, and Tracey had said before that if she was ever in that state she wanted them to pull the plug. Ever since then it had been a whirlwind of funeral arrangements and contacting her family and friends and trying and failing to help George Michael through this. He'd been so busy it didn't even feel like she was dead yet, he still felt like he could go to the hospital and visit her at any time. He even dreamed it, for three nights in a row now he'd dreamed that she was still alive and he kept forgetting to visit her and she was sitting alone in the hospital with no one to care for her and getting thinner and sicker every day.

Lindsay still hadn't called him, much less come out for the funeral. She hadn't talked to him since the Bluth Foundation fundraiser two years ago, but he'd thought she would at least call him now. He didn't know if she was still mad about how he'd acted after the fundraiser meeting or if she just didn't feel like putting in the effort, but either way it was a new low for her. He didn't know why he'd ever bothered maintaining any kind of relationship with her. Sure, she was his sister, but that was it. She'd proven over and over again that she didn't care about anyone but herself and he was tired of forgiving her for it.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Michael looked up and saw his mother.

"Oh, hi, Mom," he said, his heart sinking. He didn't want any company right now, especially not hers. He was still stinging from her and George Sr.'s complaints about paying the hospital bills.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"Uh…okay," he said reluctantly.

"Oh, Michael," she said, sitting down next to him on the bench and taking his hand. "I'm so sorry this happened."

"I would've thought you'd be glad," he said sarcastically. "Now you can stop 'pouring money down a sinkhole.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Nonetheless, if there's anything I can do, let me know. I could babysit George Michael again if you want, give you some time to yourself."

Michael hesitated, then sighed. He did appreciate the offer, especially coming from her, who rarely did favors for anyone without expecting something in return.

"Thanks," he said. "I think I'd better keep him with me, though, so he can have some stability."

"You need to take care of yourself, too."

"I'm fine," he said. She raised her eyebrows, making him hate her. "I mean, I'm not, obviously, but George Michael's needs come first right now, he just lost his mother."

"You just lost your wife."

"Thanks, Mom, I'm aware of that."

She sighed exasperatedly. He ignored this. Couldn't she tell he wanted to be alone right now?

"She looked lovely," she said. "She always was a pretty girl. I mean, not really at the end, but they did a good job with her. And the wig, that helped."

"Can you go now?"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"Are you?"

"Yes, and it would be a lot easier if you would stop biting my head off every time I open my mouth!"

He sighed. "Sorry. I'm just…going through a lot, I guess."

She squeezed his hand. "I know, sweetie, I know." Michael hesitated, then interlaced his fingers with hers. She smiled. "Your eulogy was beautiful," she said.

"Thanks."

"She was lucky to have you as a husband."

"I don't know about that," he said without thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he said, embarrassed. It was just that so many people had been saying that to him and it just made him feel worse. It had been spinning around his head ever since her death, every few hours he would be hit by another random memory of a time when he'd been angry at her or critical or unappreciative of how lucky he was to be with her. The more he tried not to think about it the worse it got. He felt like he was being crushed under this long list of ways in which he could have been better. Why couldn't he just remember the good parts? "We just fought a lot," he said. "I was too critical of her."

"Well, that's normal, all couples fight."

"Not like this," he said brokenly. "And it was my fault, I criticized her all the time. I told her she was a bad mother. And the law school disaster, too, I'm lucky she didn't divorce me," he said, his voice breaking and his eyes filling with tears. He quickly blinked them away.

"Oh, Michael," Lucille said, hugging him. He let her, a little embarrassed by how good it felt. "Don't beat yourself up, you were a good husband to her. You married her when she got pregnant, even though we were all telling you not to, you never cheated on her…"

"That's such a low bar," he choked.

"No marriage is perfect. Just look at me and your father."

"I wanted to be so much better," he said, remembering how determined he'd been when he'd married her to be better than his father. "I loved her so much."

"She loved you, too."

"You don't know that."

"She did."

Michael thought about Tracey telling him she loved him on their last anniversary, _you know that, right,_ and he couldn't stop himself from crying anymore. Lucille hugged him more tightly. He hugged her back, not caring anymore. He couldn't do this, he didn't know how to live without her. She'd been in his life since he was a teenager. He couldn't raise George Michael by himself, couldn't figure out how to comfort him. He'd thought he would be somewhat ready, he'd had months to prepare himself, but now she was gone and he'd give anything for just a little more time. There had always been hope, even at the end there was always a chance that she'd survive longer than they expected. And she had, she'd lived seven months instead of five or six like her oncologist had estimated, but it still wasn't enough. She should have had years, decades, she was thirty-two years old for god's sake. There was nothing more he could do, no treatment that would save her or even prolong her life by a few more days, there was nothing left.


	76. Chapter 76

_January, 2002_

Lindsay sat in bed, checking her email on her laptop before she went to sleep. She felt a stab of guilt when she saw the one titled 'Tracey's Passing' that Michael had sent out to the family three weeks ago. She really should delete it, it just made her feel guilty every time she saw it, but deleting it felt kind of wrong.

She still hadn't called Michael. She'd meant to, she really had. She'd just been so guilty about not calling him before and clueless as to what she'd say to him that she kept putting it off, and before she knew it a week had gone by and then it just seemed too late.

She really did feel terrible about it. She and Tracey had never exactly been close, but it was still sad, only thirty-three years old. Was she thirty-three? She realized she didn't actually know how old Tracey was, she'd just assumed she was the same age as her and Michael. And Michael must be devastated. She thought about how she'd acted when they got married, showing up to their wedding drunk and marrying Tobias out of spite. She wished she hadn't, it all seemed so pathetic now.

But that was the problem, she'd never welcomed Tracey into the family, never made the slightest effort to get to know her, and what if Michael threw that in her face now? He'd been so angry at her the last time she saw him. And it had already been three weeks, the damage was done.

She looked at the email again, thinking of Michael distraughtly typing it, trying to decide if he should use the word 'passing' or 'death.' She shook her head and quickly deleted it.


	77. Chapter 77

_May, 2002_

"Come on, Dad, tell me what the surprise is," George Michael laughed as Michael took the exit off the freeway.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Are you getting promoted, is that it?"

"Oh, no. No, that's not it. Someday, though, I'm getting there. And this might help with that."

Michael had just decided to move into a model home in Sudden Valley, the Bluth Company's latest housing tract, and he was taking George Michael to see it. Since Tracey died the house had felt so empty, like an essential part of it was missing, and it was so lonely out there with just him and George Michael, two hours away from his family with traffic. He'd been considering moving to Orange County to be closer to his family for a while now, but he didn't know how they could afford it. They were still crippled financially from Tracey's hospital bills, and he couldn't bring himself to ask his parents for money again.

Then the company had unveiled the first model home in Sudden Valley, and he'd gotten an idea. He and George Michael could live there for free and maintain the house so it would look nice for potential buyers. It would give them a fresh start, bring them closer to his family, and prove his dedication to the company and hopefully convince his father to finally make him CEO. Recently he'd thrown himself into his work, mostly for the much-needed distraction, and he'd become more determined than ever to take over for his father as head of the Bluth Company. The more he thought about moving to Sudden Valley the more excited he got. The last four months had been unbearable, both of them struggling to go about their usual routines while ignoring the gaping hole in their lives where Tracey had been. He couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't keep going to sleep alone in the bed he'd shared with her for the last nine years and convince himself that he was okay. He needed some kind of change, and he was hoping this would be it.

"You missed the turn," George Michael said as Michael passed the turn to his parents' penthouse.

"Nope," Michael said giddily.

"The surprise isn't as Pop-Pop and Gangee's?"

"No."

Ten minutes later Michael reached the stretch of desert that would become Sudden Valley and started driving up the long road to the model home.

"Where are we?" George Michael said, looking confusedly out the window.

"You'll see," Michael said excitedly. He looked around them. This place really was a barren wasteland. But they would start developing it in a few months. He reached the house and parked.

"Well, here we are," he said, getting out of the car.

"What is this place?" George Michael asked, getting out as well.

"This is our new home," Michael said, gesturing at the house.

"What?"

"Well, temporarily. We'll live here for about a year until I get the promotion and then we'll buy a real home here."

"Wait, we're moving?"

"Yeah, I think a change will good for us. Plus we'll be closer to Pop-Pop and Gangee and Uncle Gob and Uncle Buster."

"But—I like our house now," George Michael stammered.

"This one's much better. It's a lot bigger, we've got two floors plus an attic, three bedrooms, and we get to live here for free, which means a lot more spending money. It's a model home for the Bluth Company."

"A model home?"

"Yeah, but it looks just like a real house. Come on, I'll give you a tour." He went to the door and took out the keys he'd gotten from his father.

"Dad, I don't know…" George Michael said. "I like where we live now. I've got friends there."

"You can still visit your friends, we're only an hour away. And you'll make plenty of new friends here. You're going to go to the same school your old man did." As he opened the door one of the hinges broke and the door swung off of it. "Shit," he said. "Shoot, sorry," he corrected himself, glancing at George Michael. "I'll fix that before we go." He turned on the light. "So here it is! Isn't this great?"

"Yeah," George Michael said unconvincingly.

"Look at this," Michael said, walking around the house. "Here's the kitchen… This is much better than the tiny kitchen we have right now. And the living room, nice big TV…"

"What about Mom's stuff?"

Michael stopped and looked back at George Michael, surprised. "What about it?"

"What are we going to do with it if we move?"

"Oh. Well, we'll bring it with us, we'll pack it all up. We've got lots of storage space in the attic."

George Michael still looked worried. Michael walked over to him and wrapped his arm around him. "This will be good for us, trust me," he said. "We'll have a nice change of scenery, and we'll be closer to family. Nothing's more important than family, right?"

"Yeah," George Michael said unenthusiastically.

"Exactly," Michael said, patting him on the back. "Now let's go see the upstairs."


	78. Chapter 78

_October, 2003_

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Los Angeles. Please turn off all electronics and make sure your personal belongings are stowed safely under the seat in front of you. The temperature is seventy-three degrees and there isn't a cloud in the sky. Thank you for flying with us, we do appreciate your business."

Lindsay looked out the plane window at the familiar dry brown mountains below and the city and lilac evening sky beyond them. She and her family were visiting for a month to see her family, take a break from the cold Boston weather, and go to her father's retirement party, where he would presumably make Michael CEO of the Bluth Company. Lindsay wasn't thrilled about this development. She was still receiving a paycheck from when she'd worked there as a twenty-year-old, as well as relying heavily on company money for various charitable endeavors and personal expenses, and she couldn't imagine Michael would allow that to continue. The timing couldn't have been worse, as Tobias had recently lost his medical license for administering CPR to a person who, as it turned out, was not having a heart attack, and he was now out of work and they needed the money more than ever.

She wasn't going to tell Michael she was in town just yet. She would see him at the party in a month, but he didn't need to know she was here until then. She'd seen him once since his wife died at a family gathering when she visited a year ago. He'd barely looked at her, much less spoken to her, leaving her feeling incredibly embarrassed and guilty, and she wasn't looking forward to a repeat of the awkward experience. She knew she should apologize for not calling him after Tracey's death, but she felt so embarrassed about the whole thing that she didn't want to acknowledge it. She was hoping enough time had passed that he wouldn't be angry at her anymore, but just in case she wanted to wait as long as she could before seeing him again.


End file.
